Cursed
by The Magnificent Kiwi
Summary: AU. When aristocrat Suze Simon falls for a blacksmith, her whole world is turned upside down. Faced with the wrath of ruthless witchfinders and a relentless suitor, she must escape persecution and choose between Jesse's love...and his life.
1. Prologue

**Cursed**

_**Prologue -** The Way Things Are_

_Heaven queen, carry me  
Away from all pain  
All the same take me away  
We're dead to the world_

_**Nightwish - Dead To The World**_

"Burn the witch!"

"Send her back to hell!"

"Murderer!"

The chants burned my ears, although they were not aimed at me. The chilling insults seemed to tear through the night air, ripping me apart with every syllable. I watched silently as the flames wound around the screaming woman, scorching the ropes that bound her. The more she screamed, the more people seemed to cheer. I wanted to tear my eyes away, but I dared not. The tears streamed down my face and I had to bit my lip so that I did not scream at them to stop. Because I could stop this. I could end her suffering, but at what cost? She would be recaptured, and I would be tied up next to her. It wasn't worth the risk. At least that's what they told me. Suddenly, I felt a warm hand wrap around my own. I turned to look at its owner, but I did not recognise her face, which was just as tear-stained as my own.

"We must remain strong together," she said, briefly glancing at me. I smiled and squeezed her hand. There were more people like me here tonight. 'Freaks'.You could instanly tell who they were. They were the silent ones, the ones who did not mock and jeer at the woman's pleas. We all shared the same'gift'. The same curse.

I first discovered that I had the ability to communicate with the dead when I was two years old. My father owned his own land and ran a farm. My mother remained home all day and cared for me, her only child. At first I did not understand why no-one else could see these people; the animals could. But I soon learned to keep quiet about my ability. My father would tell us about dozens of women who were arrested every week on suspicion of witchcraft. I did not know what this was until I grew up. Of course, all of the women were innocent. All it took was erratic behaviour or lunacy to earn you an evening tied to the stake. That was at first. Now, even the slightest physical defect would cause fingers to be pointed in your direction.

My father passed away when I was six years old. A heart attack, he told me. Yes, _he_ told me. Although my father died over ten years ago, I still converse with him regularly. He told me of what I was. A mediator...or so I thought back then. I 'moved on' from his death quite easily because, to me, he wasn't gone. For my mother, moving on was more difficult. She would cry herself to sleep at night and she would burst into tears during the day. My father used to lie next to her in bed when she cried, but she never knew he was there. The gentle, comforting words that he whispered to her brought tears to my eyes. Because I was the only one who could hear them. She could not cope with the farm on her own, so she sold the land to a neighbouring farmer and bought a house for us both. That was when she met Andrew. Andrew (or Andy as everyone close to him called him) was a close friend of the governer. He owned the second largest house in the area, after the governers. He was an architect, I belive it is called. He designed the governer's house, the most elaborate building in miles, and even built a good part of it himself. He met my mother one day while she was gathering food. They fell in love almost instantly and married within a few months. Andy had lost his own wife to an illness many years ago, leaving him to raise his three sons alone. David, Jacob and Bradley were their names. Or David, Jake and Brad to those close to them. David was the youngest, Jake the oldest. Brad wasphysically myage, although he had a lot of catching-up to do mentally. I would by lying if I told you that I did not like them, because I did. But it seemed strange to share a house, even one as big as Andy's, with other children, let alone boys. But they weren't the worst part of moving.

Andy's house was directly next to the governer's, and so we saw him and his two sons regularly. His name was Rick Slater. I do not know his full first name. His wife, Nancy, and my mother became close friends; Nancy grew up on a farm, so they had a lot of common ground. The governer and his wife weren't a problem. It was their sons. Or son. Jack and Paul, their names were. Jack was eight years old, and Paul was seventeen; two months older than me. Paul was very handsome, I must say. I was completely surprised when I discovered that he was not yet married. That was before I got to know him.

Somehow he knew about me. About who, or what, I was. Because he was also a mediator, or a shifter, as he preferred to be known. He knew a lot about people like us. He taught me a lot. I was able to do things that I had never dreamed of. But I would rather havelived withoutthe knowledge of what I truly was if it meant that I had never met Paul Slater. He was obsessed with me. He claimed to be in love, but the only thing he felt for me was lust. It came as no surprise when he attempted to kiss me. It ended with a slap and an exchange of harsh words, but it did not dampen his efforts. I was releived when he had to leave. I do no know where he went, only that his father took him abroad on 'business'. That was two months ago. But Paul's absence did nothing to drive out the stupid idea that our mothers had that we would be perfect together. No way was I marrying that boy, no matter how much my mother cried or begged. I would only marry for love, even if that meant waiting forever. But I could never love a man in my new class. They were all too full of themselves. And I could never marry a man of a lower class because it would be frowned upon. I had a dowry fixed on me now. A _dowry_. Back when I was a farmer's daughter, the only thing I had fixed on me was the permanent smell of cattle. But now, I swanned around in figure-hugging silk dresses and floaty skirts and basques with a _dowry_ hanging over me like some uncurable disease.

By all rights, I should not be in the village. My mother preferred it when I remained in the house, helping her with the chores that were too delicate to leave to the servants. But I liked to wander the village. It was where I grew up, back when my father was alive and it was not frowned upon when I fought with my best friend in the mud. The village wasn't safe, I knew that. But to tell the truth, nowhere was anymore. And there was no truly safe place for a woman. Not with those damned witchfinders everywhere. Backchat one of them and you will find youself thrown in a cage quicker than you can say 'hocus pocus'.

But dangerous or not, even the governer visited the village occasionally when there was to be a 'burning'. He believed the stories that those witchfinders told him. He believed that all who performed witchcraft ought to be put to death.

It was hard to forget his hatred for these women when you were watching their innocent lives being stolen away from them. The woman next to me dropped my hand and walked out of the crowd, obviously having seen enough. I, however, remained until the woman's screams died with her. I forced myself to watch as a reminder as to what would happen should I make a stand against this atrocity. As the crowd dissipated and the fire was doused, the few citizens who bore my burden descended upon the charred figure. I did not. I couldn't. My punishment was through, and I needed to return to the governer's mansion before they wondered where I was. I pulled up the hood of my cloak once more and turned to leave. I knew my way around this village well. I knew almost every face,what they did and where they lived. I was greeted by the blacksmith, Henry Roland as I passed. The poor man looked weary. He did not get much sleep, even after he hired an apprentice. Although, I guess 'hired' is the wrong word. 'Took under his wing' would be more appropriate. The poor boy, whoever he was, was a runaway. I should not call him a boy, as he is apparantly older than me. I had never seen him with my own eyes, but the girls talked about him constantly. Apparantly he was quite the looker. And he was, if the group of girls whos horses were constantly 'losing' shoes, were anything to go by. He was a great help at first, according to Mr. Roland, helping with the horses. The life he had ran away from was one of a rancher. His father bred horses and made himself wealthy doing so, so the apprentice was a 'dab hand' with the horses. But soon after that, the demand for weaponry grew, so Mr. Roland had to tackle more orders. His poor wife must be lonely.

Forgetting about the blacksmith, I jumped into the back of a carriage.

"The governer's mansion, please," I told the driver, lowering my hood. As the horses began to pull the carriage up the hill to where the houses of the rich stood, I rubbed my face with the back of my hand. It came away black. Great, my mother is going to kill me. I opened my cloak to look at my dress which had, very surprisingly, remained clean. Which was more than I can say for my shoes. They should have been a light pink - not exactly my favourite colour, but I didn't have much choice - but were currently borderlining ona brownish green.

The journey up to my residence was short. I was there within five minutes, two of which were spent pausing for another horse and carriage to pass by. I paid the driver after he helped me down from the carriage and then followed the stone path to my house.

Our house - or mansion - was fairly gothic in style; losts of arches and intricate designs carved into the posts. The colour was reminiscent of Tudor architecture, as was the sloping roof and panelled windows. The house was three-storeys high, and my bedroom was on the second floor. My mother and Andy slept on the top floor, so it was easy for me to sneak out at night. But tonight there was to be no sneaking. Nancy Slater had been talking to my mother when I left, and when I returned, they were both deep in conversation. Their conversation, however, was interrupted when I pushed open the lounge door.

"My goodness, Susannah, what happened to your clothes?" My mother exclaimed when her eyesfell on me. She stood up and hurried over to me. "Where have you been?" I attempted to push her hands away, all to no avail. She continued to scrub at my face until she resigned to the fact that only soap and a good scrub in the bath was going to shift the layers of dirt that caked my face.

"There was a burning," I told her. This admission caused her expression to darken. "I went down to the village and got caught up in the crowd." She shook her head in disbelief as she placed a few napkins onto the couch so that I would not mess it up. I knew that she disapproved of the witchfinders, but like all women, she could not speak out against them. She had once told me 'just be thankful that you lead a sheltered life. No harm can come to you whilst you are under the governer's crae'. But I wasn't thankful. Because here, I had to more careful about my gifts.

I did not sit down with my mother and Mrs. Slater becauseI knew that they would most likely attempt to talk me into marrying Paul. Instead, I made my way to my room. My room has a window which is on the front of the house, allowing me to see the whole village stretched out below. The view was the best in the house, better even than my mother and Andy's view. But when I openeed my bedroom door, ready to enjoy this view as I changed into a robe, I saw that my room was already occupied. The visitor was a female, not much older than myself. She wore a fairlysimple dress. Although it was simple, it was by no means cheap. When she heard me enter the room, her head snapped in my direction, allowing me to see thehelplessness in her eyes.

"Please," she spoke, her voice as soft as my silk robe. "Help me. You are the mediator?" I nodded. I did not bother to correct her. Relief washed over her face and she walked over to me, causing me to realise that she wore no shoes. I drew my gaze further up and observed her attire.Herdress was sleeveless with a small'V' neckline (though it did no go so far down to show her cleavage) and was cardinal in colour. A small, string-likepiece of material was tied around her waist, pulling the dress in.Around her neck hung a ruby and necklace. Whoever this girl is, she was rich before her death.

Yes, her death. The otherworldly glow that this stranger emanated signalled that she was not a member of the living.

"Hello," I greeted, not wanting to sound rude. She smiled at me, obviously aware of who - or, more aptly, _what_ - I am.

"I was wondering if you could help me," she said. I braced myself for what was coming. If she wanted me to break into her house and give something to someone, I was not going to comply. It was one thing, breaking into a peasant's house, but to break into a wealthy person's house? That was suicide.

"I don't know how to say this, but...I feel that I am lost," she said. I blinked at her, unable to understand what she had just said. She must have noticed this, because she elaborated. "I died a week or so ago. And I am not bound to the place I died. I have nowhere to go, and no means of moving on. I do not know what to do." I smiled. These were the best cases; the ones that didn't involve physical action.

"Well, let's start with how you died," I said, seating myself on my bed.

"Well...I was executed," she explained. "So to speak. My father wantd me to marry this rich boy, but I was in love with someone else. He wasn't rich, so my father disapproved. But I would not marry this other boy, so he eventually relented. But the rich boy was not happy; he told the witchfinders that I had bewitched my father into allowing me to marry a peasant. They caught me and I was burnt at the stake. The boy...my lover killed him before leaving town. I followed him here, but he could not see me and he moved on to the next town.I just...I don't know what to do now. Shouldn't I be in Heaven?" I flashed her a friendly smile.

"It doesn't work like that," I told her. "You obviously have some unfinished business and you will remain here until it is completed."

"I know what it is," she sobbed. "But there is nothing anyone can do about it. Not without putting themselves in danger. After all, the death of a 'witch' can never be avenged."

I had never wanted to help someone as much as I wanted to help this girl right now. But she was right; there was nothing anyone could do. She would remain here until the witch trials stopped. Until no more women were drowned or burned. So, I told her that she could stay in my room for the time being on the condition that she did not move anything, touch anyone,or in any way make her presence known.

"What is your name?" I asked at long last.

"Marianne," she told me.

"I am Susannah."

* * *

I woke up early the next morning. It was a Monday, so Andy had already left and my mother was rushing around, trying to get David ready for school. 

"Susannah, will you take David down to the village?" She asked, brushing some invisible dust from his clothes. "I am run off my feet here." I groaned, much to my mother's disapproval, and grabbed my stepbrother by the arm. He was thirteen years old, surely he could make his own way to school. But obviously not, otherwise I would be in my room, talking to Marianne rather than in the back of a carriage, talking to David.

Thankfully, he never talked about anything worth listening to, so I could stare out of the carriage window, admiring the view as the carriage wound its way down the track, towards the village.

David's school was a large building in the 'good' area of the village. This is the area where the rich set up their businesses and the poor are frowned upon. On the edge of this area was a church. I am not a religious girl, although my mother tells me that I should be, but I spend most of my spare time in the church. And it was the church that I made my way towards once the driver was paid and David was safely inside the school.

The church looked more like a cathedral; gothic architecture, stone statues of all its former leaders, stained glass windows the size of elephants. Inside, it was constructed of stone and marble, save for the wooden benches. My shoes clacked against the cold stone as I walked up the aisle, towards the altar. The confessional was to the left of the altar, hidden away in a corner. As I walked towards it, I felt the eyes of the praying people on me. There was maybe half a dozen of them. But their stares did not affect me. I glided over to the box, the sound of my shoes against the ground changing as the floor turned to marble. I pulled open the ornate wooden door and slid inside, seating myself comfortable speaking.

"Forgive me father for I have sinned," I spoke. I did not have a confession, nor did I have any right to be in there, being a devout agnostic. I was simply speaking to see who was on the other side of the metal grill. The priest sighed and I knew instantly that it was the man I wished to speak to.

"Susannah, what is it now?" Father Dominic is a mediator. He shares my 'gift'. He is an oldish man, between the ages of fifty and sixty, although he seems younger than his age.

"Another ghost approached me," I told him. I could hear him turn to face me.

"Another...? What did they want?" He asked, his voice shaking as he spoke. He did not like me talking about the ghosts that I see. He fears that I will one day be caught and executed, like so many other innocent women.

"Her name is Marianne. She wanted a place to stay, so I allowed her to stay with me until this whole 'witch' thing blows over," I told him. "She was burned at the stake and that is why she remains here." I heard him sigh in frustraion.

"Susannah, these apparitions are not pets," he said. I laughed. I knew that. But I felt sorry for them. And I guess I allowed Marianne to stay because of all the times I watched women die for sins they had not commited. I told him this only for him to sigh yet again.

"Susannah, those that are responsible for these atrocities will pay for their sins. If not in this life, then in the next. It is not your job to make them suffer." Yes, but I would have fun doing it. I did not tell him this. "Is that all?"

"Yes, father."

"Then you better go. There may be others with the need to confess."

As I pushed the door open, I realised that the church was almost empty now. From where I stood, I could only see a woman kneeling behind a bench a little way down the room. So I made my way slowly and quietly down the aisle once more, looking not infront of me, but at my feet as I walked. I did not see the man coming. I did not even know he was there until I walked right into him.

"_Lo siento, senorita,_" he said, grabbing my arm so that I didn't fall. I giggled at how stupid I had been. "I was not looking where-" He broke off in mid-sentence and I was forced to look up into his eyes. For some strange reason, every inch of my body seemed to freeze. As I looked up into his dark, brown eyes, I felt myself falling, and not because he had let go of me; his grip on my arm remained tight, as did mine on his. I could not decipher the look in his eyes as they surveyed my face. He remained silent, and seemed to be astonished. I knew the feeling. Something seemed to click inside of me when our eyes met. I could not speak, my voice seemed to catch in my throat. I took in every detail; his perfectly-chisled features (carved by the hands of angels, I would say if I was religious), his beautiful brown eyes, his olive complexion and his thick, black hair. Oh how I wanted to reach up and run my fingers through it. But that would not be appropriate. He blinked and steadied me, but did not let go of my arm.

"I am sorry," he said. I believe that he said this before. I don't know...whatever language it was that he spoke, I did not speak it. "I just..." But he trailed off again as his eyes met mine. His fingers trailed down my arm as he lowered his hand, and I could feel the calluseson his fingers. But his touch was by no means rough. In fact, it left a trail of warmth, and a feeling I could not describe, down my arm. I apologised to him for not watching my step.

"It's alright, Miss," he said, smiling. His teeth were almost perfect; he was obviously well off to have teeth like that. Most of the peasant's teeth were either yellow or had dropped out. But his were a dazzling white. "I was not watching my step, either." His eyes lingered on my face a moment longer, before he tore them away. I flashed him a smile that was nowhere near as heart-melting as his and brushed past him. I could feel his eyes on my back as I left, and I couldn't help smiling to myself. Whoever he was, we had just shared a moment. A moment, I was sure, that we would never share again. Oh, how wrong I was.

* * *

**AN - I don't even know if anyone is going to read this, but it's an idea that has been stuck in my head for ages and if I didn't post it, it was threatening to drive me insane, lol. The rating may change later...it's going to get pretty dark. Especially when Paul comes into it ;). Basically, all of the characters from the book will be in it...Suze, Jesse, Paul, Father Dom, Suze's mom, Andy, Jake, Brad, David, Suze's dad, etc. And a few new characters. As far as a setting goes, I haven't commited myself to a time period...the witch trials of England were in the earlier part of last millenium, but I'm borrowing details from other time periods, so...it's kind of my own time period. Anyway, I hope you liked the first chapter...if you did, review and I shall write more :). Trials and Tribulations will take priority over this as far as updates go, but I will try and alternate :)**

**Disclaimer - The characters belong to Meg Cabot...the story belongs to me.**


	2. Emotions

**Cursed**

_**Chapter One - **Emotions_

_But when a young lady is to be a heroine, the perverseness of forty surrounding families cannot prevent her. Something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way._ **_Jane Austen_**

His touch lingered for hours after we parted. Who was he? I pictured him in my head, but somehow the image was already distorted. Damn the human mind. I remembered his eyes; two pools of darkness. And his skin; olive. He wasn't from around here. I remembered his clothes; black pants that fit snugly, but were not too tight, and a white shirt that was black around the cuffs. He was tall. Very tall. And handsome. Even the world's best sculpture could not create a face as perfect as his. I shook the image of him out of my head. No, Suze. You can't think about him, not like that. But the truth was, I couldn't help it. Something happened in that church, and I wanted to know what it was. Maybe this was lust? I had never experienced it before, but I heard that it was a feeling of intense longing, a burning desire deep within you. It was a sin, of course, and earned you a meeting with the witchfinders. Which terrified me more than anything. I didn't even know his name, and he was making me risk my life. 

I drew my knees up to my chest. I was in my bedroom, alone save for my new found roommate.

"A few seconds?" Marianne repeated. "That's all?"I nodded. That's how long my meeting with the handsome stranger had lasted. Yet it was enough to infect me with such darkness. I would be damned for sure.

"Susannah, I don't think that lust is the right word to describe what you are feeling." I ignored her statement.

"Call me Suze," I told her, remaining horizontal on my bed.

"Why?" Why do ghosts have to be so prying? Why can't they just accept something with no questions asked?

"Because Susannah makes me sound like some rich snob." This caused Marianne to tilt her head back and laugh.

"But you _are_ rich," she informed me, as if I was stupid.

"Well maybe I don't want to be," I spoke into my pillow. I slowly traced invisible patterns on the soft fabric. My pillows back at the farm used to be rough. We were by no means poor, but we didn't have silk sheets, that's for sure. I missed the smell of hay and the soundof the dogs barking. Andy's sons had a dog, but it never barked. It just growled. Back at the farm, I could sleep in until noon without being disturbed. I missed all of the animals.My father never used to slaughter them; he was a crops farmer. But he kept cows to milk andsheep to shear every summer. He even kept a few pigs because I thought they were adorable. They didn't do much, just ran around and grunted all of the time. I must have been thinking about all of this before I drifted off because I dreamt of sheep, and my father chasing me around the field with a bucket of water.

* * *

I woke up early the next day and walked to the stables to help Jake feed the horses. I wore one of my oldest dresses and flat shoes so I wouldn't annoy my mother by scuffing up my newest purchase. 

"Hey," Jake said as he saw me approaching. "You're up early. What happened, nightmare?" I sneered at him and grabbed a bucket of horse food.

"I went to bed early last night," I told him. The truth was that I had fallen asleep unintentionally and hadn't woken up until about an hour ago. But he didn't need to know this.

"That's strange," he said, laughing at me. "You are usually up all night. God knows where you go and what you get up to." I know that he was joking, but a tremor of fear passed through my body nonetheless.

"Jake, please don't say anything like that _ever_ again!" Harsh, I know, but Jake's comment was all it took to get someone like me locked up or worse. He realised his mistake and apologised profusely.

"You can't be too careful," I told him. I stepped towards our youngest mare and tipped the food into her trough. Her nose dived into it before I even had time to pull away. I patted the side of her head gently and she whinnied in approval.

"So, has mom fixed you up with that Slater boy yet?" Jake joked. I rolled my eyes, although he wouldn't be able to see it.

"No," I stated. "Not that she hasn't tried."

"Why won't you marry him? He's rich, and quite easy on the eyes from what I hear." He just didn't get it, did he?

"He is also chauvanistic and vain," I spat. "I wouldn't marry him if he was the last boy on earth. Yes, that's all he is; a petty little boy." Jake burst into laughter, causing the stallion beside him to kick furiously.

"Somebody has some issues," he managed to say through laughs. I don't know what he found so funny; he was not married yet, either. Although it is different for men. It isn't unusual for them to be in their twenties and unmarried. After all, it was the woman who decided whether or not she wanted to go ahead with the match. Of course, this caused for some bitter break-ups where the rejected man lied to the witchfinders about discoveringthe womanpracticing the dark arts. Many innocent women met their end this way (like Marianne). Fortunately, no one other than Paul had expressed the slightest interest in becoming my husband. And he was too deep in love with me (or so he kept telling himself) to have me sent to my death.

"I just don't like Paul, that's all," I said, rhyming unintentionally.

"Don't worry, no-one does," he assured me. "Will you help me strap Rafael up?" I groaned and grabbed the largest saddle from its hook next to the door. Rafael was Jake's horse; a black stallion. He used to be very ill-tempered, and Andy almost had him shot until I disposed of the cause of his behaviour; the ghost of our former stable boy who didn't actually know that he had died. After that, Rafael calmed down and took a strange liking to me. But I can't ride, so he went to Jake.

I did my best to help my eldest stepbrother saddle his horse. But I know nothing about horses, so I did more hindering than helping. I was about to leave when Jake cursed.

"He broke a shoe!" He exclaimed. "Great."Judging by his behaviour, I'm guessing that he was being sarcastic. He held onto the horse's reins and managed to inspect the damage. Then he looked at me.

"Listen, I have to be in the village in an hour," he told me. "I'll take dad's stallion but someone's going to have to take Rafael to the blacksmith's. I need him fixed for tomorrow. Will you take him?" I sighed, like it was a big deal, but it wasn't. It would be a good excuse to wander.

Rafael didn't put up much of a fight as I led him from the stable and down to the village, on foot. I'm sure I could have ridden him, but I was unsure if it would hurt him or not, what with his shoe broken. By the time I arrived in the village, it was early afternoon, and the sun beat down furiously on my shoulders. I had to reach up twice to wipe the sweat from my eyes. The blacksmiths was just on the border of the rich/poor divide, not in the rich area, but also not in the poor. The smell of smoke greeted my nostrils as I pushed open the door.

"Susannah!" Henry greeted me. I smiled at him, unable to talk because of the dryness in my mouth. "Problem with a horse? I'll take him around back. Help yourself to some water." He signalled to a couple of cups of water to my left as he took Rafael's reigns from me.

"Thank you," I managed to choke out.

"No problem," he told me, smiling. I had a lot of memories of Henry from my childhood, and in each and everyone of them, he was smiling. He had a warm, friendly smile. "You can wait around if you want, I'll get Hector to work on him right away." I nodded. Hector must be his assistant's name. It was a strange name, I thought.

I picked up one of the cups of water and poured some down my throat. It was warm, but I didn't expect anything else in this heat. It did not cool me down, but it alleviated my discomfort and quenched my thirst. I took another gulp and swilled it around my mouth before swallowing.

"You should have brought some of your own," spoke a voice from behind me. I twitched a little from surprise, but I was so used to him doing this that it no longer made me jump.

"You should stop trying to scare me, dad," I replied. "You know as well as I do that it doesn't work anymore." I turned around to face him. He wore the same outfit that he had died in; brown pants and an off-white shirt. Mainly off-white from the dirt that clung to it.

"I know," he said, sadly. "I just thought I'd pop by and see you. It's been a while." I nodded in agreement. My father didn't stop by nearly as much as he used to. Mainly because of the recent uprising in executions. If being caught talking to thin air wasn't a good enough reason to be tried for witchcraft (and by tried, I mean tied to aplank of woodand held underwater to see if you survived), then I don't know what was.

"And what makes now so different from all the times you have avoided me?" I asked. He smiled that all-knowing smile that ghosts seem to have down pat.

"Henry is a good guy," he told me. He and Henry were close friends, back when he was alive. "I highly doubt that he will turn you in as a witch. And that kid that helps him out has a good heart, too." I closed my mouth, which had opened to point out the assistant. "I came here to give you a message."

"Yes?" He always gave me messages about new ghosts that were causing trouble, but with so many others like me in this village, the problem usually took care of itself.

"It was unclear, but..." He trailed off, obviously trying to remember the specific details. "I know that you worry about being alone, and about being accused of witchcraft. This Paul boy..." I groaned. "Susannah, listen to me. If you marry Paul, like your mother and his mother want, then you can never be accused of witchcraft. You can never be executed. The governer would rather abolish the stupid law than see one of his own family slaughtered." I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. "But...But by doing so, you will be denying yourself of all the hapioness that is destined to come your way."

"Thanks dad," I smiled. "Thanks for the cryptic message."

"Oh, no," he said. "That wasn't the message, that was just the warm-up." I laughed. "The girl that you met last night...the dead one. Keep her close. I don't know why, but you just have to. Things are going to turn bad around here, and somehow keeping her close will keep you safe."

"Again, thanks for the cryptic-"

"Susannah, be quiet!" He instucted, andthen disappeared. I head a deep whinny come from outside and turned to face the doors. That was quick. I pushed the doors open, my hands becoming stained by the damp wood. They closed behind me with a thud.

"Rafael!" I said, then blushing when I realised that I was talking to a horse. I reached up and patted him on the side of the nose.

"He's a good horse," came a voice from the side of him. My hand froze halfway down Rafael's neck. I knew that voice.

The assistant walked around the side of Rafael to come face-to-face with me, and he, too, froze.

It was the man from the church. It was unmistakeably him. He wore a different shirt, this one almost completely black from coal, smoke and dirt, but there was no mistaking his eyes, or that little scar that sliced through one of his eyebrows.

"It's you!" I whispered, realising too late how rude I sounded. But the man just laughed.

"It's Jesse," he told me, holding out a hand for me to shake. I slid my fingers into his, still in a complete daze.

"Susannah." I told him. "But please, call me Suze." I couldn't help but notice the tingle that crept up my arm as he gripped my hand. What was happening to me?

"Susannah?" He echoed, ignoring my insistance that he call me Suze. "Such a beautiful name." I felt colour flood my cheeks, and I tried to look away. We pulled our hands apart reluctantly.

"So, I guess you're Henry's assistant?" I asked, attempting to make conversation. He nodded.

"I'd take a guess at who you are, but I have no idea." A giggle broke free from my lips and I blushed again. Why did my body keep insisting on doing that?

"I'm-" I broke of before I even started. I coulnd't possibly tell him who I was. He was a blacksmith, and I was a wealthy landowner's daughter. How could I tell him that I was the step-daughter of the governer's best friend? He would start treating me like everyone else does; reserved and too polite.

"I'm a maid in Andrew Ackerman's household" I lied.

"Interesting," Jesse said, observing my attire. "A maid with expensive taste in clothing." I blushed again, but not because of what he said.

"I, um...I'm friends with his step-daughter. She gives me all of her cast-offs," I explained, lying through my expensively-maintained teeth.

"It's funny," he said. "From what I hear about Andrew Ackerman's stepdaughter, I wouldn't expect her to be the kind to give clothes to their servants." The colour drained from my face and a stab of annoyance hit me in the chest.

"What do you mean?" I demanded, sounding a little bit hostile. Jesse seemed taken aback by my outburst.

"Oh, nothing," he insisted, obviously aware that he hadoffended me. "I just heard that she could be...what is the right word?...temperamental." I frowned. I couldn't believe that people were saying this about me. Not only was it dangerous, but it was also downright rude.

"Well, she's not," I told him. "She's lovely. She's one of the nicest girl's I've met." He laughed at me.

"I'm sure she is. But I've never been too keen on rich people." That was odd, from what I'd heard, he had come from a rich background himself.

My eyes dropped from his face. I couldn't look into those eyes for a second longer. They fell instead to his shirt, where it had come undone, revealing enough of his chest to make me go weak at the knees.

"Are you alright?" He asked, stepping closer to me. I nodded hastily and fanned myself with my hand, making the excuse that I was hot. Which I was, but not because of the solar heat.

I uttered a silent prayer of thanks as Henry rounded the corner.

"Hey," he greeted. "I see you've met Hector." Jesse flinched when Henry said this.

"Please don't call me that," he begged. "It makes me feel old." Henry laughed at him.

"When you're my age, you can call yourself old," he told him, giving him a friendly thump on the back.

"I've known Suzie here since she was yay high," he told him, holding his hand as low as it could go without him having to bend over. I felt my face burn as Jesse laughed and said "oh, really?". I don't know why I blushed, Iam used to people making fun of me, especially boys. But Jesse wasn't making fun of me in a nasty way, like everyone else did. The realisation of this made something inside of me drop, causing me to feel like I had swallowed a stone.

"I had better be taking Rafael back," I told them, handing Henry his money. I didn't have to go, of course, but I found Jesse's presence disturbing. Because everytime I looked at him, I felt a slight twinge in my stomach. This disturbed me because I had no idea what it was.

"I will see you again," Jesse said, flashing me another heartwarming smile as he passed Rafael's reins to me. I was careful not to let his fingers touch my own; I can remember what happened the last time it occured.

"Maybe," I replied, my voice andexpression perfectly casual, but my insides turning to mush. Jesse looked taken aback, for what reason, I did not know. That was the last I saw of him before I took Rafael and began leading him towards the hills.

I turned to look back as I neared the end of the street and saw Jesse still standing there, staring after me. I turned back to see where I was going, willing myself not to think about him. After all, what coulda guy like himpossibly see in a freak like me?

* * *

**AN - That's all you're getting for now :). I did start to work on this right after chapter 2 of Trials and Tribulations. But then I decided to get a start on chapter 3, and I did. I also got an end.**

**Thank you to my reviewers :) You rock! And I'm not just saying that to get on your good side, lol ;).**

**Celuna Cirrus - I don't know much about the Salem with trials, unfortuantely. I did do a little bit of researching before I started this, and from the info I found, I figuredthat they weren't on such a large scale as the England witch trials of a century I can't remember :S. I know it got really bad over here. This story actually originally started out as Suze, Jesse and Paul getting sent back to the witch trials and getting stuck there, with Suze getting arrested and Paul and Jesse having to find a way back home before she is executed. But I wanted to write an AU, so..:p here I am. If you know any books about the witch trials, Salem or otherwise, tell me (this goes for everyone!)! I'm almost finished Size 12 Is Not Fat, and I'll be finished Queen of Babble not long after that, so I need more books to read. And inspiration. There is only so much that music and old guides from the Dungeons can do.**

**creating apathy - Thank you :). It was so difficult for me to write first-person for a change, because the only time I've written in first-person before was for an autobiography for my English class. And that was years ago. But now I can't stop. I'm glad you like my fics :).**

**Tatsu-Kishu - Here's it is, lol. Nice to hear from eager eraders :).**

**Mandy020 - I will keep writing as long as people keep reading and reviewing :). I like feedback.**

**melodie568 - Thank you :). It's always difficult to start fresh with an idea of your own. You can never be sure if anyone is going to read it. But thank you for reading this and liking it :).**

**Disclaimer - Meg Cabot owns some of the characters. I own everything else.**


	3. The Girl In The Water

**Cursed**

_Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot._ **_- D.H. Lawrence_**

"You're stalking me, aren't you?"

I froze where I was standing. I felt the corners of my mouth twitch at the sound of that gorgeous voice. The bare skin of my shoulder burned beneath the hand that he had placed casually on my shoulder.

"Really?" I spoke, not turning around. "Because I have been lead to believe that it is _you_ who is stalking _me_."

He let out a little laugh and his hand moved down to my arm, spinning me around.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his dark eyes captivating me. "Do you not know that it is dangerous for a girl such as yourself to wander on her own? Especially with the Witchfinders about."

I tore my eyes away from Jesse and looked over at a witchfinder I had been observing. He was as drunk as is possible, his hat across his face and his long brown cape wrapped around him in an interesting way. He looked like a human cocoon.

"I don't think he will be bothering anyone for at least a few more hours," I told him, avoiding his gaze this time. I had honestly thought that he had wandered over to talk to me. But I guess he had just wanted to warn me about the dangers of a young girl at a market on her own. But my mother had been too busy to take me, and the Harbor markets were rarely as good as this.

"Henry is here," he told me. "Maybe I should tell him where you are."

At this, I ripped my arm from his grasp.

"Contrary to what you think, I am capable of looking after myself, thank you very much," I told him. He looked taken aback by my sudden outburst. "So if that was all that you talked to me for, then I suggest that you leave me be." At that precise moment, I did not care if I sounded like the snobby brat I had tried so hard not to be.

"I am sorry, _querida_," he apologised, looking genuinely sorry."I just don't want you to get hurt. There are worse things than the witchfinders out there."

'Yeah,' I thought. 'I live next door to one of them'.

"What is that?" I asked. I could not contain a little snicker as Jesse looked over his shoulder.

"What is what?" He asked, turning back to me.

"What you just called me." Jesse did not reply. It bugged me, I guess, but I decided to let it go. "Never mind."

I gave him one last smile before turning to leave. His presence was unnerving, although not in the same way as Paul's was. With every step that I took, I begged whatever higher force there was out there that he would say something else. Just so that I could hear that voice once more.

"Susannah," he spoke. I stopped, smiling and silently thanking whoever had answered my silent prayer. "Do you know a girl named Cristina Versailles? She was a maid in the governer's house...just like you." I nodded slowly, not turning around. Of course I did. She hated Paul almost as much as I did. She came to our house to escape her Italian family, who were violent and possesive. I had not seen her since yesterday morning.

"What of her?" I enquired, keeping my voice as casual as possible. I knew Cristina well.

"She stood trial last night," Jesse informed me, his voice shaking as he spoke. "Down...down at the pools."

I gasped. He had to be lying. That voice could not speak such horrors.

"You lie!" I snarled, whirling round to face him. "I saw her yesterday, she is fine!"

Jesse looked at me with what could only be pity in his eyes. There was a hint of something else...sadness maybe, I do not know.

"Her family contacted the governer. He ordered her execution. If it is any consolation, she drowned, proving that she was not a witch." I assume that he added this last part as a half-hearted attempt to cheer me up. But it only angered me more.

"Take me there," I instructed him. "If it is true, then take me to the pools."

* * *

The woods were quite, as usual. No-one ventured into them anymore. The town square was only used for the occasional burning; the forest is where the atrocities take place any other time. The only visible evidence of what occured was a raised platform in the middle of a clearing. As usual, a bonfire had been set up, ready for the next woman who stepped out of line. Just up from the reusable stake stood the old miller's cottage. It has been out of service for decades, but it is built next to a lake, making it an ideal place to cage women awaiting their 'trial'. The unlucky women were 'awarded' a trial. 

Over the lake stood a stone bridge, manacles and chains permanently nailed to the side. On the edge of this miniscule yet deep patch of water were two objects which looked like planks of wood with crude seats attatched to one end. Both the chains and the seats were the only objects used in the trials, but they were more than enough to terrify any person faced with them. One way of trying a suspected witch is to secure her hands to the chains that fell over the bridge. Now, these chains went through a series of metal loops which had been nailed to the bridge underwater. If someone at the top of the bridge pulled hard on these chains, whoever was tied to them would be dragged down under the water, unable to break the surface unless the chains were released. The other method of trying a suspected witch would be to tie them to one of the chairs so that they could not escape and then lift up one end of the plank, submerging the chair and the suspect into the water. the theory behind these methods is that if the suspect survives a lengthy spell underwater, then they must be a witch and would consequentally be either tortured to death or tied to the stake and burned. Of course, no woman had ever been found guilty this way. So they have taken to merely tying the suspected up and throwing them into the lake to see if they would float. Which was ridiculous, too, because by the time the accused was dragged out, they had already drowned.

You do not want to know what they did to the men that were accused.

Jesse refused to take his arm off mine as we drew closer to the lake. The stench was almost unbearable. They only emptied the lake every four of five executions; when they needed the chains.

The grass was damp beneath my feet, and I could feel the mud squelching under my step, no doubt soiling my shoes.

"Be careful," Jesse whispered. His grip on my arm became more posessive as I kneeled on the wet stone that surrounded the lake and looked into the water below.

For a moment, all that I saw was my own reflection, Jesse's directly behind me, a look of uncertainty on his goregous face. Then...something moved. Jesse's grip on my arm tightened even more so, and I leaned back, my body pressing against his. I could feel the muscles beneath his shirt as my back pressed against them. I shuddered slightly, telling myself that it was because of the fear.

Slowly, something moved in the water. I could see it moving towards the surface, until... It was all I coudl do to surpress a scream. Cristina's dark, lifeless eyes gazed skyward, an expression of despair distorting her beautiful features. It was hard to believe that just twenty-four hours earlier, I had been laughing with her.

"_Querida_, I think thatwe should go," Jesse said, his voice urgent yet concerned. "You do not look well." I shook my head and reached my hand out towards Cristina's body, my fingers hovering milimetres from the water's surface. I noticed for the first time that a length of rope was wrapped around her neck, the end of which was tied to the chain further towards the bridge, causing her body to bend at a peculiar angle. I closed my eyes, unable to look at her any longer. Those vile witchfinders had done it again. They are paidon comission, so the more people they kill, the more they earn. They don't care if the people they kill are innocent or not. I opened my eyes to take one last look at my former friend only to see her body jerk back with the jangle of a chain.

"Curious there, are ya, miss?"

Jesse's grip on me became painful and he attempted to drag me backwards, but I dug my already-soiled heels into the moist earth and looked up into the witchfinder's face.

"I just wish to ensure that these...creatures got what they deserved." I heard Jesse gasp behind me and the guilt that I felt intensify tenfold. I did not means these words, but I would be in the lake with Cristina if I did not speak them.

The witchfinder grinned at me as he yanked on the chain again, dragging Cristina's body towards the bridge.

"Don't I know you from somewhere, ma'am?" He enquired, observing me suspiciously. "I'm sure I have. Up at the mansion."

I ducked my head to avoid his gaze.

"I am-I know the governer," I explained. I couldn't tell him who I really was, because Jesse was standing right behind me, and I couldn't tell him the lie that I had fed Jesse because it would suggest that I had a connection with Cristina. That alone was enough to ensure that I was the next body tied to those chains.

"Come on," I heard Jesse say behind me, his voice firm and full of loathing. As I turned, I saw that his eyes were filled with hatred as he stared down the witchfinder. His grip did not loosen as he led me back towards the horse that I had rode down on. Behind us, the witchfinder cackled, sending a stream of birds shooting out of one of the nearby trees.

"Doing what you're husband tells you," he shouted between cackles. "Why can't more women be like you?" Then, he cackled some more as he dragged Cristina's stiff body from the pool. I had to bite back a scathing reply and felt my cheeks burn at his comment. Jesse was not my husband.

Jesse helped me onto the back of his horse, but instead of holding its reins and leading it through the trees like he had on our journey here, he placed his foot in one of the stirrups before I could slide mine in and hoisted himself up onto the horse, positioning himself behind me. He had barely gripped the reins before he dug his heels into the horses side and we sped off through the trees.

I have never rode a horse before. Well, not when someone else is doing all the steering. It's quite unnerving. And I'm not talking about the fact that I constantly felt as though I was going to topple off sideways. I'm talking about the strong arms that came around me, preventing me from falling,and the proximity of his body to mine. There was no denying how incredible he felt against me, and there was no stopping the feelings that coursed through me as I was pressed backwards against his hard chest. I didn't even realise how much of my legs were showing, since I was not riding side-saddle and, in order for me to sit comfortably, the skirt of my dress was hiked up around my knees.

I don't know how long we rode together, only that Jesse did not stop until he had returned to the Blacksmith's shop. I would be lying if I told you that I was not disappointed when he dismounted the horse and helped me down. I would also be lying if I told you I was not embarassed about the height of my skirt. He got a good view of my thighs, although he did look away once he realised how high my skirt had rose. Handsome _and_ a gentleman. He truly is the perfect man.

"What was all that about?" I enquired once my feet found the ground and the hem of my dress was back around my ankles, where it belonged. Too bad it didn't cover my shoes; they were a lost cause.

"I am sorry," he apologised, tying his horse's reins to some piece of wood. I didn't bother looking to see where it went. "I can't stand those...people." He spat out the word 'people' as if he thought that the witchfinders should not be described in this way. I had honestly never seen a man react this way to one of them before. Except Paul, who pushed one into the drowning pool when they tried to come on to me. Which was funny at the time.

Jesse then turned to me and reached out to touch my face.

"Promise me that you will stay out of trouble," he said. Why is he being like this? Why is he treating me like...well, like he likes me. I had only met him a few days ago, yet he was already treating me as a friend, an equal. Not to mention the sensations I experienced when I was simplyin the same room as him, never mind _touching_ him. I scolded myself as an unsuitable answer formed in my head, the answer in question involving the kind of 'trouble' that he obviously wasn't thinking of.

"_Querida_?" There was that word again. What did it mean? I remained silent yet again, reaching up to cover his hand with my own. His skin felt rough beneath mine, his hand warm and dark against my own pale, cold skin. Involuntarily, I turned my head and placed a tender kiss on the palm of his hand. I do not know what caused me to do such a thing, but it was too late to take it back. And I knew almost instantly that I had made a mistake.

Jesse withdrew his hand as if I had just driven a knife through it and stared, speechless, at the place I had touched with my lips. Then he looked at me, his expression unreadable, and I could see that he was visibly shaken.

I bit my bottom lip and looked away. I did not look back as I turned around and muttered a quiet farewell. I did not even look back as I walked calmly to the door, breaking into a run as soon asI was out of his view.

Then, far away from both my house and the Blacksmith's shop, I sat on the filthy ground, turning my dress the same colour as my shoes and started to shake uncontrollably.

Then, I cried.

* * *

**AN -There's more, but I'm ending there for now :). I don't know much about the Salem Witch Trials (I am using my knowledge of the English Witch Trials for this story), but I am going to try to look them up before long...the witchfinder bit is going to play a bigger part when Paul comes back from wherever he was sent. I'm just trying to build up the J/S relationship before I bring him in.**

**Disclaimer - I own nothing but the story.**


	4. To Eve The Art Of Witchcraft

**Cursed**

_Love shall consume and bathe the Lady  
whom I worship and ride therefore  
She will greet me as a serpent  
in her dark, secret Eden  
and I will always want  
for her witchcraft is  
Desire... (Desire...)  
My soul is poisoned from within..._

**_Cradle of Filth - To Eve The Art Of Witchcraft_**

The moon was full tonight and something lingered in the air. A smell. I dared not think of what it could be. Thse woods always smelled of one thing or another. The woods were good hunting grounds as well as a well-known execution site.

I did not look down as I walked, I held my head up high. I did not wish to see what I was stepping on. Instead, I focused on where I was going. If the man who came to me was correct, then I would find it beside a marked tree, buried a foot or so under the dirt. Which is why I had a knife tucked away inside my cloak.I assured myself that it had noting to do with the witchfinders, nothing at all. Just like I was wearnig the cloak to keep myself dry, not to disguise myself.

I trudged on through the mud which was by now aqueous. My cloak trailed behind me, slowing me down somewhat when it sank into the slush. But I continued on, despite the treacherous conditions and the daner of what I was doing. Because I was not doing this because I wanted to.I was doing this because I had to. because of him.

I gave my trapped cloak a hard yank before continuing on through the forest.

It was all because of him. Because of the way he made me feel. I could not explain it, and neither could Marianne, whom I had confided in. I barely knew this man and he made me feel...unnatural things. Sleeping has become something that I avoid, because when I do sleep, I dream of him. I have even begun to refuse to take the horses to the Blacksmith's. He was ruinging my life and he didn't even know it! I had to go on a wild goose chase for some artifact buried by a dead man to take my mind off him. The blacksmith's assistant, that is. I refuse to say his name. Everytime I do...well, it's embarassing, let me tell you that.

I paused when I reached a large deciduous tree and slowly ran my hand down the bark. It was too dark to see any markings, but I could feel gaps in the rough pattern; places where the bark had been removed. This must be it.

I sunk to my knees, not caring that my cloak became coated with the wet earth, and began to dig with my knife.

It was pointless, really, because the knife simply slid through the mud. So, I wiped it on my already-soiled cloaked and placed it back in the inside pocket before thrusting my hands into the ground and scooping out the mud. Eventually, my fingertips came into contact with someting hard. I felt along it until it ended and then grabbed the edges and heaved it up through the wet soil.

I wiped it off with a corner of my cloak before placing it into one of its many inside pockets. It pulled down on the heavy material, but the mud had being doing that all night, so I paid it no nevermind.

I shoudl have realised that something was wrong. I could sense it, just like I could sense a materialising ghost. But I had no idea that I had been spotted until I felt something cold and sharp against the back of my neck.

I froze.

"What are you doing there?" A rough, male voice asked.

"Minding my own business," I replied, in a tone that suggested he should do the same. I guess that this was teh wrong answer as he hauled me to my feet and spun me around so that I was facing him.

"You're a girl!" He gasped, spitting out this last word like it was a rotten piece of fruit. Though, judging by the state of his teeth, I highly doubted that a piece of fruit had ever passed those chapped lips. "Well...this changes everything. It's a good job we just emptied the pools last week."

Then I heard another laugh from behind him, and his partner stepped into view.

"And why would that be?" I tried. I know that it is a bad idea to backchat a witchfinder, but the way I looked at it, I was already in a lot of trouble, so it did not really make any difference.

"You're a mouthy little bitch, aren't you?" He sneered. I regarded his mangled features with intense loathing and disgustas I wondered how long it would take his partner to react if I was to thrust my knife into his jugular. "You are in a lot of trouble, missy.Let's just leave it at that."

As he suddenly reached out to grab the back of my neck and guide me to God knows where, I could smell the alcohol on him. As far as witchfinders go, there were two types. There were those who imprisoned a lot of women and earned a lot from comission who wore tidy, clean clothes and were high-up in social circles. And there were also those who were just starting out, or those who did not care about the money, only the deaths. These men were usually drunken bums who stumbled aimlessly around the towns, looking for men and women alike to send to their deaths. It seemed that I had found a couple of the latter.

"Why am I under arrest?" I enquired. The witchfinder jerked my head back, the hood of my cloak falling over my eyes and rendering me blind. At least he had not seen my face yet.

"You are under arrest, m'lady, because you are in the forest on a night of a full moon," he snarled. "And what business would anyone have with a marked tree on a night of the full moon? I saw you digging. You were burying something, you were casting a spell! You will burn for your sins, witch!"

"Actually," I pointed out, "if you look where I was 'digging' you will find that there is nothing there. So I was not, as you said, casting a spell. Also, this land belongs to the people and therefore the people should be allowed to do whatever the hell they want with it."

I guess I enraged my captor because he forced me to my knees and held my head so that I ws facing the ground. His grip was becoming painful. Then, he withdrew his sword and held it against my throat, the cold metal of the blade causing me to shiver slightly.

"A smart one, eh?" He sang. "I couldcut your throat right now, you know. And there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do about it. _I _have the power here! _I_ say what is right and what is wrong. _I_ say what you were doing, and _I_ say that you are a witch! And this is the governers land. And the governer hates witches."

With every word that he spat, I could feel the anger and rage bubbling up inside of me and my hand went inside my cape, my fingers closing around the engraved handle of the knife. I was all but ready to slit _his_ throat and see how much he was laughing then.

But it turned out that I didn't need to. Suddenly, the blade vanished from my throat and I was thrown to the ground, the knife tearing through my skin as I hit the ground. I let out a cry of pain, but it was drowned out by the rain and the sound of metal on metal. I dared not stand up, so I dragged myself through the mud until I thought I was clear of the fight. But as I prepared to drag myself one final foot, a hand grabbed ahold of my cape and pulled me upwards. I saw the glint of moonlight on metal and I reacted. I pulled out the knife and blindly thrusted it in the second witchfinder's direction. I felt something warm splash over my hand and heard a squelch as something hit the ground. When I opened my eyes, the witchfinder's body lay sprawled in the mud.

I had just killed a man.

I sunk to my knees beside him and checked for a pulse, but there was none. Blood leaked from a wound somewhere and mingled with the mud, but I dared not look for a wound. I did not even notcie that a fight was still going on until I heard a gunshot and another squelch. Then I looked up.

To see _him_.

And he turned to me, his short, dark hair plastered to his face by the rainwater. Despite the gravity of the situation, I could not help but notice how handsome he looked in the moonlight and the way that the water had soaked through his thin, which shirt, causing it to cling to his well-defined body. If this sight had appeared before me under any other circumstances, I would have gone weak at the knees. But all I could do was stand up as he made his way towards me and throw myself into his arms.

It didn't matter that the mud I had been coated with stuck to him as I pressed myself into him, and I guess that he did not mind either, as me wrapped his strong arms around me. I was slightly distracted by the muscles that I could feel throuh his drenched shirt, but I am sure that I heard him whisper '_Querida_' into my hair.

He pulled back after about a minute and looked into my eyes.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He yelled. "Wandering off on your own in the middle of the night. You were asking for trouble!" Then he just ciontinued to glare at me. I was glad that it was raining because I did not want him to see that I was crying so hard.

"Jesse, I had to," I cried. "You don't understand."

The emotion in Jesse's eyes changed from anger to...something less hostile. He pulled me into another quick embrace before telling me to stay put and walking over to the first witchfinder.

I did not know what he was doing until he bent down and shoved his finegrs into the bullet wound. I flinched as he pushed his thumb in there also and felt around before pulling something out and placing it into his pocket.

"They may have been able to trace the bullet to the gun," he explained, obviously having seen my horrified expression. "Come on, I'll take you back."

* * *

It turned out that by 'back', he meant his place. Together, we walked down to the village and he took me to his house, a cosy place that Henry rented out to him. He took my cloak off me and handed me a blanket before suggesting that I remove my wet, muddy dress also and leavingthe room. 

When he returned, I told him that I appreciated the fact that he wanted me to take my clothes off, but all he needed to do was ask. A little bit of flirting never hurt anyone, did it? And it did wonders to relieve the tension. I wsh that I could say the same for him, though. He merely turned red and mumbled something about getting me a drink. This, I appreciated more than him saving my life. Especially since he came back with a mug of hot cocoa. Cocoa is rare, I know that. Even the governer's family rarely drinks it.

After this brief interlude was over, it was back to worrying about what had just happened. I sat on one of his chairs, knees pulled up to my chest and a blanket wrapped around me, gently rocking backwards and forwards with my mug of hot cocoa. Even the very nice view I had when he changed into a dry shirt did nothing to ease my troubled mind. Even the fact that I am sure I saw a bit of chest hair during those few seconds.

"Tell me what you were doing out there," he said as he lowered himself into the chair opposite me. I avoided his gaze because I did not want to lie to him anymore than I already was. Which did not seem possible this morning.

"I just...needed to take a walk," I replied. It was only half a lie. Imagine my surprise when he held up the box that I had dug up. He must have found it in my cloak.

"Ah," I said, in the universal language of the guilty. "That." He raised an eyebrow at me. The eyebrow with the scar, I feel compelled to point out.

"Yes, this," he stated, placing the box in the table next to his chair. "What is so important that you feel compelled to risk your life to find?" I swallowed hard. I couldn't think of an honest answer. So why bother answering him at all?

"What is so important that you feel compelled to wander into the forest on your own at night armed with a gun and a sword?" I asked him. Way to turn the situation around. But I guess it did not have teh desired effect, because he simply smiled at me.

"I saw you entering the forest," he said. "I knew you were probably up to no good, so I followed you. And while we are asking questions, I would like to know why you have been avoiding me."

I choked on the cocoa. How could he possibly know that I have been avoiding him?

"I-I don't know what you are talking about," I stuttered. He just raised his eyebrow again.

"All of a sudden, you stop bringing the horses over. You barely even step foot outside of your house and according to that priest, you have been acting strangely lately."

'It's you!' I wanted to scream. 'I have been avoiding you because you make me feel things that I don't understand!'

But instead, I settled for lying about my health. He did not buy this, however, and walked over to me, kneeling right infront of my chair. This was very unsettling, because as I mentioned before, I was wearing nothing but a blanket and underwear on my lower half. And it was the kind of underwear my moher hated me wearing. The kind that started below the navel and finished a few inches down my thigh. She said that this underwear was 'too revealing'. But honestly, who would see it? But at that moment, I wished that I had worn the full-length underwear that my mother preferred me to wear. Especially when I felt _those_ feelings return, due to his close proximity to me.

"_Querida_," he spoke, his voice soft and gentle, yet still as deep as always. "If there is something bothering you...anything...then you can confide in me. I promise you that I will not speak a word to anyone." As he spoke, his right hand came up and rested itself on my cheek, causing the skin there to tingle for an unknown reason.

I did not reply. How could I? If I told him about my ability to communicate with the dead and shift between planes of existance, he would think that I was truly crazy. If I told him who I really was, he would start treating me with forced respect, like every other man did, and I liked the way he treated me. Like a friend, an equal. Nobody ever treated me that way anymore. And I most certainly could not tell him about the things I felt when I thought of him. He would probably never speak to me again.

He sighed at my failure to respond.

"That's alright," he said. "I just hope that somewhere along the line, you trust someone enough to tell them. Secrets, they can...they can eat away at you." As he said this last part, he tore his eyes away from me and looked at the floorboards instead. It was obvious that there was something that _he_ wasn't telling _me._ But I guess thathe had his reasons for not telling, just like I had mine, so I wasn't going to push him. Instead, I placed a hand on the side of his face and tilted it up so that he was looking me in the eyes again.

The sadness in his eyes hit me deep. Whatever he was concealing was obviously tearing him up inside. I could relate to that. I curled my finegrs beneath his jaw line and traced his strong jaw with my thumb until I reached his chin. He did not try to stop me, so I moved my hand to cup the side of his face.

I wanted to utter some words of support to him, just to let him know that he was not alone in his suffering. But instead I found myself becoming lost in the dark pools that were his eyes. I felt something twist in my abdomen, a sort of intense longing. Then I did it. I leaned forward, still cupping the side of his face, and pressed my lips against his. The feeling in my abdomen did not vanish when I did this...it flared. And suddenly I found myself wanting more. So I began to move my lips. For a second or two, he was unresponsive, then I felt his hands on my head, his fingers snaking into my hair. The first thing I thought was 'Oh, no. He's going to pull away'. But surprisingly he didn't. He opened his mouth to me and raised himself to his knees, his hands travelling from my head to my waist and pulling me towards him.

The feeling I experienced as I kissed him and he kissed me back was indescribable. It was like every pleasure I knew was not actually a pleasure at all; merely a distraction from _this_. I felt his hand through the blanket as he ran it up and down my back, causing me to press myself even closer into him. I wrapped my legs around his waist,discovering that his well-defined abdominal muscles felt almost as good on my thighs as they did on my chest. I desperately wanted to make some sort of noise, anything to show him how good he was making me feel. The cocoa did not warm me the way he did, it did not soothe me and my aching body the way that he did. He made my body ache for a reason other than physical weakness. I surrendered completely to him; whatever he wanted, he could have in abundance.

But I guess that he did not want much, because he suddenly pulled away from me, panting as heard as I was. He fell backwards onto his backside and looked up at me in complete disbelief. His shirt had loosened slightly, showing me that it was indeed chest hair that I had seen before.

He looked like he so desperately wanted to say something, but coudl not find the words for it. And suddenly i didn't want to hang around to hear what he had to say. If it was a speech of rejection, then I did not think that I could bear it. So, not thinking clearly, I grabbed my half-dried dress and my muddy cloak and hastily put them on underneath the blanket before heading for the door.

"Susannah, wait!" I heard him shout from behind me, but I would not stop. I couldn't. My heart had taken enough batterings. If I walk away now, he will never have to say those words. 'You're not good enough', 'I just don't like you...not in that way'.

So, before I could stop myselef, I took off out the door and ran for the hills as fast as I could.

I didn't even bother taking a carriage.

* * *

**AN - It might seem like it's moving a bit fast, but there is plently to come. Especially when Paul returns. I might have to put the rating up when he comes in to it...I'll see what you guys think :).**

**Apologies for spelling mistakes...it's this damn keyboard. I will redo the chapter if I find that I've done too many.**

**Thank you to my reviewers! And my readers...the ones who don't review but really should ; ). So go review! And I'll update soon :). Feedback is greatly appreciated and can lead to a better story!**

**Disclaimer - The Mediator and all things related to it belong to Meg Cabot, not me.**


	5. The Valley People

**Cursed**

_To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead - **Bertrand Russell**_

It goes without saying that I did not sleep that night. And it was not because I kissed him, it was because I ran away.

How could I have been so stupid? Why did I just leave instead of waiting to hear what he had to say?

And that was just the start of everything falling apart.

During breakfast this morning, my mother informed me that Nancy Slater was ecstatic over the news that her husband and her son were on their way home. So we are expecting them to return any day now. And I will be expecting another proposal from Paul. And I am not talking about the kind of proposal that a girl of my age and class should considered to be 'decent'.

I guess that I am cursed in more ways than one.

I was in such a state after breafast that my mother tried to force me back into bed. But if I did not keep busy, I had time to think about things. Namely Jesse and that kiss. So, I changed into old clothes, found an apron and duster and began to clean.

It was soothing, actually. The more I scrubbed away at one of the many vases that lined our hallways, the more relaxed I felt. If only I had thought of this last night, instead of searching for that damn necklace (which I returned to its rightful owner via post), then I would not have met Jesse and therefore would not have felt compelled to kiss him.

As usual, my mouth had landed me in trouble.

"I would offer you assistance, but I have my instructions," Marianne told me as she followed me from vase to vase. "Though why you, a woman of class, are polishing vases completely baffles me."

"I am polishing these vases," I shot back, a little louder than I had intended, "because I am frustrated. And I am a farm girl, _not_ a socialite."

Marianne laughed at my comment.

"If you had not ran away, then you would not be frustrated, _farm girl_," she giggled. Her giggling, however, ceased when she saw my face.

"How do you-? Have you been _stalking_ me?" I demanded as the duster fell from my hand.

Marianne furrowed her brow. She was obviously not used to being spoken to like this. She used her kinetic powers to raise the fallen duster a few feet into the air, then she reached out and took it.

"I followed you," she explained as I pulled myself to my feet, "for the same reason as Hector. I saw you sneak out and I knew that you would get yourself into trouble. I followed you to help you."

"Jesse," I said, the words unintentionally falling from my lips. "His name is Jesse . . . Oh, what do I care?" I reached out and grabbed the duster out of her hand.

"And I don't need your help," I snarled, storming past her. "I don't need anybody's help. Now, if you don't mind, I am going to feed the horses".

"But Jacob already-" Marianne started to say, but I did not allow her to finish.

"I don't care!" I yelled, thankful that the house was empty. "I am going to feed them anyway."

I did not look back as I left the house for the stables. Marianne had more than likely dematerialised. At least she knew when to leave me alone.

I left my apron on to feed the horses. I may have been wearing an old dress, but that id not mean that I wanted it to be smeared with horse muck. I also pulled my hair back into a messy bun. I did not care that I looked a mess; I was feeding the horses, not attending a ball.

Jake left the horse feed in a small room just beside the stable door. It was used as a store room and also contained harnesses and other horse-related equipment. Jake's horse feed consisted of leftover vegetables and usually stank by the time it reached the horses, but they did not seem to mind.

It took a lot of effort for me to drag the bag to each individual stall and tip the contents into each horse's trough. Once that was done, I had to use buckets of water to fill the other troughs. It was hard work. I honestly cannot see how Jake does this every day. At least I know how his muscles are developed. I only ever see him sleeping.

As I emptied the last bucket of water into the last trough, I heard footsteps outside the stable door. I thought that perhaps it was Jake, or maybe even Brad.

How wrong I was.

"Susannah," I heard the visitor say as I casually strolled past them.

I froze when I heard that deep-yet-soft voice speak my name. I honsetly did not expect him to even attempt to find me.

"Susannah, I- We need to talk," he said, moving closer to me. At least this meant that he did not find me repulsive.

I turned to face him for the first time since hearing his voice. At least he had made some effort. His shirt was not stained black around the cuffs today, suggesting that he had not yet started to work. He was clean shaven, as usual and his hair was immaculate. I reached a hand up to my own hair and felt my cheks flush red at the state of it. I casually pulled the ribbon out of it and let my chesnut locks fall onto my shoulders. I dared not look down at my apron.

"The barn," I said, finally working up the courage to say something.

I led Jesse over to the large barn that Andy had built back when his first wife was alive. The barn was a better place to talk than the stables because it was open, and there was no place for anyone to hide and listen in on our private conversation. Also, it did not smell of manure.

I closed the barn door behind us before walking over to where Jesse stood and waiting for him to speak.

"Susannah, last night .. ." He started. He paused to look at me, an indescribable emotion in his eyes.

"It's alright," I told him, speaking before he had the chance to continue. "I should not have kissed you. It was wrong, it . . . I am sorry."

Jesse did not reply straight away. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on my arm. I am ashamed to admit that my skin still tingled beneath his fingers and suddenly I was overcome by the urge to kiss him again.

"I just want to know...why?" He asked eventually. He did not look into my eyes, as he usually did when he spoke. His gaze was fixed on my arm, the one his hand gently held. "Why did you do it?"

Suddenly, I was overcome with frustration once again. I pulled my arm from his hand and dug my fingers into my hair, my long nails scratching my scalp.

"I don't know!" I half-yelled. I took a step back before turning around and walking away. "I just . . . felt like it was right. Everytime I see you, I get these .. . feelings. I don't know what they are or why I experience them. Last night, I just let them get the better of me."

"Then why did you leave?" He asked, his voice rich with emotion. I gently shook my head as I felt tears flood my eyes.

"I like you," I told him. "I really do. You are the only person who has ever treated me with genuine respect. You like me for me, not for who I am. I just...I thought that I had ruined all that. And...I was scared of rejection. I couldn't take you telling me that I'm not good enough. That I'm just some stupid little girl with a crush. I just-"

I broke off when I felt his hands on my arms once again. He stood behind me, a little too close for comfort, but not close enough for what I was feeling.

"How could you say that?" He asked, his voice gentle yet obviously concealing some anger. "Do you not know me at all? I would never say _anything_ like that!"

"Then why did you pull away?" I demanded. He was obviously unaware of my tears. "That one action basically said all of that and more."

"I pulled away because I, too, was scared," he admitted. "I felt...unnatural things. If I had not pulled away, I dread to think what I might have done next. I did not pull away because I think you aren't good enough. Because you are. I really like you, too . . . In fact, I . . .I think I'm falling for you."

Suddenly, my tears dried up. Slowly, I turned back round to face him. He gazed down at me, his anguish visible in his expression.

"Oh, _querida_," he gasped upon seeing my tears. He lifted up a hand to wipe them away. "See, I'm no good at this. I always end up hurting those I care about. I am sorry." Laughter escaped my lips. Because for once in my lonely life, I did not feel so alone.

"Jesse, you haven't hurt me," I assured him. "Far from it, actually. You may be falling for me, but I'm afraid . . .I've already fallen for you."

He did not reply. How do you reply to something like that?

I reached up my right hand and began to play with one of the ruffles on his shirt, my fingers lurking dangerously close to the opening in his shirt. After a few seconds, his hand came over mine while the other cupped the side of my face. He gazed into my eyes for a few long seconds before moving his face closer to mine. This time it was _him _that kissed _me_. And this time, it was not fast and furious. We stood there in each others arms for several minutes before deepening the kiss. This reply was better than any words he could have spoken.

When we eventually pulled apart, we continued to hold each other. He whispered words that I did not understand, but I did not need to. That kiss told me everything I needed to know.

"You should get back to work," he said. "I do not wish for you to get into trouble with your master."

I giggled into his shirt before I remembered that he thought I was a maid.

"I am sure tha the won't mind," I replied, but he pulled away after gently pressing his lips against my forehead.

"Go," he instructed me. "And what are the chances of you sneaking out again tonight?" He smiled as he spoke this last sentence.

I pretended to look thoughtful for a moment or two.

"I would say that there is a good chance," I told him.

"Well," he whispered, moving his lips close to my ear. "You know where to find me." then he kissed the side of my head before pulling away.

"I will get you a carriage," I offered, a smile playing across my lips.

* * *

The night air was cooler than usual. The mist that drifted up from the harbour cloaked the forest, making it difficult to see. But all I needed to do was to follow the others. 

"You want to be careful," my friend CeeCee told me. "If you are seen with me, you will be strung up."I laughed.

"Oh, CeeCee, have a little faith," I told her. "They would need the governer's approval before they burned someone of my class. And he will not be around for another day or two. That leaves plenty of time to escape."

CeeCee pulled the hood of her cloak further down over her face as we passed through the clearing. The air was thick with smoke, making it difficult to breathe. I blocked out the poor woman's screams and the crowd's taunts. Tonight, my business was not with the wichfinders.

CeeCee and I ducked down by the pools and slid silently past another witchfinder who was standing guard outside the cottage. Judging by the screams that were coming from the inside of the cottage, a man had also been accused of witchcraft. I shuddered to think of what they were doing to him in there.

As soon as we were clear of the gathering, the voices fading into nothing, we picked up the pace. It was not far.

Eventually we came across what looked like a mound of grass. CeeCee placed her hand into the mound and knocked three times on a wooden door. After a few long minutes, the door opened and we entered the small building built into the side of a hill.

The building was a guard house for what lay beyond. And what lay beyond was another village.

The village is built into a small valley, which is completely cut off from the outside world.The people who lived here were those that would certainly be sentenced to death should they ever walk amongst the 'normal' people. There were shifters, like myself, and there were actual witches, the ones the witchfinders never seemed to be able to catch. There were also the people who would physically never fit in. Like CeeCee, an albino. One look at her, and the witchfinders would have her tied tothe stake.

There were roughly fifty people living in the valley, and not all of them were 'abnormal'. A lot of them could not cope with hiding their shifting abilities in the real world, and others were merely family members of those who were 'gifted'. There have been many occasions when I have considered moving to the valley. Of course, this was before I developed a sort of immunity when my mother married Andrew Ackerman.

"I never did thank you," CeeCee said, pulling down her hood. It is a shame that she has to hide her face, it is so pretty. "You have everything back there, yet you still visit us."

"You do not need to thank me," I told her. "It requires no effort on my part. I have friends down here. Friends who treat me with genuine respect."

CeeCee chuckled.

"As of late, I have seen a 'friend' in your world who treats you with genuine respect...maybe a bit too much 'respect'," she pointed out. I blushed.

I did not ask how she knew; there was litle that occured in the forest that the valley people did not know about.

"Why are you here?" She asked when I did not reply. "You never did tell me."

She took my hand and led me down a gravel path which led to an old cottage. Once we reached the doorway, I removed my cloak and pulled down the top of my dress to reveal an angry-looking wound on my chest.

"How did this happen?" CeeCee gasped, taking my cloak from me and observing my wound with horror.

"I am surprised you do not know," I replied as she knocked on the cottage door. "Last night, I got into a spot of bother with a couple of witchfinders. I landed on my own weapon."

CeeCee shook her head in disapproval. I knew that she did not like the work I carried out for the deceased. And I can't say that blame her.

The cottage door creaked open as we waited and a quiet voice told us to come inside.

When observing the inside of this cottage, it would never occur to you that its occupant is, in fact, a witch. Because outsiders have this insane idea that witches are old women with warts and thick grey hair who paint satanic symbols around their homes and hang dead animals from the ceiling. Madam Zara's cottage, however, contained only furniture, books and a row of plants and potted herbs along the windows.

"It is good to see you again, Susannah," she said as I entered her humble abode. I smiled in reply.

'Witch' is the wrong word to describe Madam Zara. She is a psychic and an expert in herbal medicine. She has no 'magic powers' or broomstick, but her expert healing abilities are enough for her to earn the title 'witch'.

"Let me see the damage," she instructed, sitting me down in a rather uncomfortable chair. She shook her head in despair when her eyes fell on my crudely-sewn wound.

"You did this yourself?" I shook my head. I had enlisted Marianne's aid, despite her lack of medical knowledge.

"These will have to come out," she told me, producing small knife and painfully beginning to pick away at the crude stitches. "You should have come to me straight away. This wound requires new stitches, and I shall have to clean it out before it becomes infected."

I noticed that CeeCee would not look at me whilst Madam Zara repaired my broken skin. CeeCee has never been fond of the sight of blood.

"Dare I ask how you aquired this wound?" Madam Zara enquired, her tone suggesting that she already knew.

"I was . . . clumsy," I told her. It was only a half-lie. After all, it was my own knife that ripped through my skin.

It took Madam Zara only a few minutes to carefully stitch my wound together and rub some strange-smelling ointment into it. I did not doubt that the wound would not be noticable this time tomorrow.

I smiled at her work before standing up and placing my coak over my shoulders.

"So my medicalskills were all that you required?" She asked, obviously amused at my hasty departure. Or attempted departure. "Very well, but be careful. I took the liberty of reading your cards this morning, and . . . let me just say that bad times are ahead. For all of us, but especially for you."

I shrugged off her cryptic warning. My father's message a week or so ago sounded similar to this, but I did not consider it to be significant. The undead, and those who communicated with them, often spoke of imminent disaster and impending doom, so I rarely paid attention to their warnings. Everything always played out fine. And I was not expecting things to become easy for me. After all, I was in love with a man my parents would never allow me to marry and I dread to think what Paul Slater will do when he discovers mine and Jesse's relationship. But I would face whatever fate threw in my way.

Because that is what you do when you are in love.

* * *

**AN - Sort of filler, here :). I swear the valley people are significant. For all you Paul fans...tune in next time :).**

**Review and I will love you forever :).**


	6. Evil Has A Name

**Cursed**

_The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness. - **Joseph Conrad**_

Love is a very strange thing. I realised that not long after I fell in love. Before I met Jesse de Silva, my whole life seemed pointless. I felt as though I was simply another being, my only goal in life to marry well and have lots of healthy children. But now I could see so much more potential in myself. Marriage no longer seemed like the terrible act I once considered it as and life did not seem so dull. I could finally see the colour in the world, I could finally see hope for myself. I still consider myself to be cursed, but it touched me that someone could see past that and actually liked what they saw.

"_Querida_." His deep voice pulled me from my reverie. It was very easy to lose myself in my thoughts when I lay in his arms. "Are you awake?"

I shifted slightly so that my head fell further onto his chest and made an unidentifiable noise. I felt his chest shudder slightly as he laughed silently. His hand came up to push my hair out of my face.

"What does that mean?" I mumbled. "_Querida_?"

"Do you honestly want to know?" He asked. "Will it not spoil the romance?"

I lifted my head from his chest and frowned in his direction. He was right. The most thrilling part about being with him was the things that he whispered to me, and the fact that I did not know what they meant. I guess that it was his little secret, and I was perfectly happy for it to remain that way.

"If you desire it so much, then I will tell you," he said, his smile mischevious. "Just tell me that you really want to know."

I lay back down, this time positioned so that I was facing skyward. It was amazing how many stars I could see. We currently lay out on the grass behind his house. He lived in a quiet area, so nobody would spot us.

"Keep it to yourself," I told him, acting as though it pained me to say it. But of course, it did not. Because I love how he is so mysterious. There is a lot that I do not know about him, for instance, where he came from and why he ran away. But I had my secrets, too. He knows my name, but he does not know who I am. I wanted to tell him so much, but I could not. If he found out that I had lied to him . . . it just did not bear thinking about.

"You are amazing," he sighed. "That is why I like you. You are not like other girls. There is just . . . something about you."

I wished that I could return the sentiment. In fact, I tried to. I tried so hard to tell him that I felt the same way about him, but somehow my vocal chords would not work. All that I managed to utter was an indecipherable grunt. This caused him to shift again and I felt his head move.

"Oh, no," he gasped. "_Querida_, wake up." I opened my weary eyes to see an expression of worry on his face.

His eyes looked up to the sky and I followed his gaze to the blue orb that hung surprisingly low in the sky. I cannot remember ever seeing the moon like this.

"It is almost dawn," Jesse told me, pulling me to my feet. Although it was still dark, the air felt different. It felt sllightly more . . . moist than when I usually return home. And for the past two weeks, I have done a lot of travelling in the dark. Five minutes together during the day was not enough for me, so I found myself sneaking out of the mansion at an unconventional hour more often than not.

"You have to get back," he said, his worry showing clearly in his voice. "You will get into trouble."

I gazed wearily at him as he lifted me onto the back of his horse. I was too tired to care. I baely even noticed when he came up behind me and grasped his horse's reins. I fell back against him, my head lolling against one of his strong arms. From the position of the moon, my concious mind estimated that I had approximately an hour until Jake awoke to feed the horses and a further hour until my mother attempted to coax me out of bed. I did not know if two hours' worth of sleep would be enough to get me through the day, but I did not have much of a choice.

On our way up the hill, I noticed many people rushing about. As we passed the docks, I noticed three new ships tied securely to the harbour. One of them took up most of the space and was quite extravagant. I knew that I had seen that ship somewhere before, but my tired mind could not quite place when and where.

We reached the mansion within ten minutes and I suddenly fell sideways off the horse as Jesse suddenly disappeared. Moments before I hit the ground, strong hands gripped my upper ams and brought me to my feet.

"Steady," Jesse said, surpressing a laugh. He pulled me into a loving embrace once I found my feet.

"If anything goes wrong . . .remember to find me," he whispered. I held on to him tightly, enjoying the warmth he provided. A few days after we first kissed as a couple, he told me that should the time ever come when I need to leave the mansion for good, he would be there for me and would go to any lengths to ensure that I would be safe.

Despite the warmth radiating from his body, I suddenly felt a chill creep up my spine. I remembered the screams in the old miller's cottage the day that Madam Zara healed my knife wound. The witchfinders may do horrific things to women, but they were nothing compared to the fate that awaited the men who were accused. At least a woman's death was quick and almost painless. I did not wish that fate upon him. However, it was endearing to know that he was willing to risk so much for me.

Our lips met for a parting kiss before he left. I still felt weary, but I managed to remain upright and watch my love leave. I felt the emptiness within seconds. It was always the same, after he left. I feel alive when I am with him . . . it is hard to explain.

A few minutes after he left I turned around and stumbled back towards the mansion. I felt a cold chill in the air but I dismissed it as the morning breeze.

Jesse had taken me to the trees round the back of the mansion; it is concealed, so nobody would see us. I felt nettles and twigs sting and prod my feet as I stealthily crept towards the mansion.

There was a chill in the air, but I told myself that it was the morning mist. Had I known what it truly was, I would not have returned home that night.

I had reached the tree that I intended to climb in order to return to my bedroom by the time I realised that someone was watching me. But it was not until I heard soft footsteps behind me that I turned to face my stalker.

When my eyes fell on him, my blood froze in my veins. Then I realised that the chill was not due to the mist. It was him.

Suddenly I did not feel so tired.

Because when faced with Paul Slater, you need all your wits about you.

"Did you miss me?" He asked, that cold voice feigning sweetness. I automatically took a step back.

"Like a hole in my head," I replied, feigning sweetness in my own voice. I just hoped that it would hide the way that my voice trembled.

"Oh, how I have missed your insults," he sighed, moving towards me.

I could feel the rough bark of the tree through the thin material of my dress; I had nowhere to run.

Paul stepped out of the shadows and for the first time in months, those cold blue eyes looked into my own. I turned my head to the side, but there was no avoiding him when he stopped mere inches from my shaking form.

"Suze, you're trembling," he pointed out. I did not want to point out that my sudden loss of control over my limbs was infact due to the finger he currently ran down my neck.

"Are you cold? Let me warm you," he spoke. I moved my head further to the side so he missed my lips. Instead, his own landed just beneath my ear and I am ashamed to admit that they caused my skin to tingle. Fear, I told myself. That is why my skin tingles so . . . fear.

He smiled at my reaction (a slight shiver) and moved his lips gently against my sensitive skin. I surpressed a moan and attempted to push him away, but he would not move. He was too strong for me.

It turned out that I did not need to worry about his tender kisses, because they ceased almost as abruptly as they had started.

"Where have you been?" He asked. He sounded suspicious.

"I thought you would know," I replied. "But why do you ask?"

Paul pulled his head back and turned mine so that we were almost nose-to-nose.

"You smell different," he commented. "Are you seeing someone?"

"What?" I asked, laughing to disguise my fear. If he found out about Jesse . . . "What are you talking about?"

I could tell that he was not convinced. His eyes bore into mine, as if the answer lay there, just waiting to be read by some scheming, manipulative seventeen-year-old like him.

But at least he pretended to let it go.

"Never mind," he said. "I must be imagining things. It has been too long . . ."

"Too long since you tormented me?" I sneered, pushing him away. I lifted myself up onto one of the lower branches of the tree.

"Aww, Suzie . . ." he complained. "I'm not that bad. Why don't you give me a chance to prove that it's true?"

I laughed incredulously. He had some nerve. After all that he has put me through, he has the gall to suggest that I 'give him a chance'.

I voiced my feelings but all he did was laugh.

"You will understand one day," he said. "One day you will be begging me to marry you."

Somehow I highly doubt that.

* * *

_A breeze gently shook the branches in the canopy. There were no birds in the trees tonight._

_I was vaguely aware of a pressure at my feet. I did not realise then that they were trailing behind me, splitting the soft earth as I moved._

_I felt pain at my wrists. Rough hands lifted me up and my hands were pulled around some sort of pole. I felt the rope bite into my hands. I felt the blood drip from my wrists as they frantically attempted to free themselves._

_I was screaming something but I couldn't quite make out what it was._

_There was light . . . fire. I could feel its heat as a cloaked figure lowered it to my feet._

_"Witness the last moments of accused witch . . ." I heard the voice yell. I could hear more voices, but I could not see where they were coming from._

_" . . . Marianne Winchester!"_

_A scream was ripped from my throat as my feet exploded with pain. I could feel the skin melt away as the flames leapt higher and higher. The thin material of my dress seemed to fuse with my skin._

_Images danced before my dying eyes, unfamiliar images. Before I could make sense of them, they vanished. _

_Along with everything else._

"No!" I screamed, my body forcing itself into an upright position.

"Susannah?" Marianne's frantic voice broke through my momentary disorientation. "Susannah, are you alright?"

I lifted a hand to my forehead and felt the perspiration clinging to my skin.

It was only a dream

Loathe as I am to admit it, I should have listened to Paul. He once warned me of the dangers of becoming too close to ghosts. But I did not listen to him and now I am having visions of Marianne's death.

"I am fine," I assured my ghostly companion, waving a hand to emphasise my point. "I just had a nightmare."

Marianne observed me with much interest. It made me wonder if I had been talking in my sleep. I prayed that I had not.

"About him?" She asked. Of course, I had told her all about Paul. I had warned her not to show herself to him. He would no doubt have her exorcised before I could stop him.

"No . . . about the trials," I told her. "What time is it?"

"Almost noon. Your mother tried to wake you but it was to no avail." I laughed at her wording. She was born into high class where as I merely married into it. Or rather my mother married into it.

"Lunch will be served shortly," she continued. "I would let them know that you are awake."

Not today. No doubt the Slaters would also be downstairs and I was not in the mood to face them.

I told this to Marianne as I cleaned myself up and found some suitable clothing.

"You can't avoid him forever," she told me. I hated how she was always right.

"I don't intend to avoid him forever," I informed her. "Only long enough for him to realise that we will never be together."

I pulled my bedsheets straight so there was no evidence of my nightmare. But I could feel that they were damp with sweat. I would ask one of the maids to change them.

"But that may not be true," Marianne pointed out. "Your parents will soon grow weary of your procrastination and organise a match for you. And we both know who they will force you to marry."

"But there will be no need for that," I told her sweetly. "I know that Jesse is the man I will marry."

Then she laughed. She tilted her head back and cackled the witch she was accused of being. Iwas quickly losing my patience with her.

"Jesse?" She asked incredulously once her laughter had subsided. "You can't be serious? Your parents would never allow you to marry him. You are from different worlds. You have no future together."

I fell back onto my bed. Part of me knew that she was right. But another part of me knew that we would pull through. Love conquers all, does it not? Surely we wuld find a way. Even if that meant eloping.

I was torn from my thoughts by a voice shouting my name. With great reluctance, I pushed myself to my feet and made my way down the many steps to our dining room.

The Slaters were there, as I thought, and Paul flashed me a smile as I entered the room.

"Susannah," he said. He never called me 'Suzie' or 'Suze' infront of our parents. "Just the girl I wanted to see."

I tried my best to look pleasant, for the sake of our parents.

"To what do I owe this honour?" I asked, clenching my teeth in an attempt to bit back an insult.

"Well,I woke this morning to discover that my horse has broken yet another shoe," he replied. The expression he wore caused me to wonder if he had broken the poor stallion's shoe deliberately. "I was wondering if you would accompany me to the blacksmith's?"

I felt my body freeze as fear crept up on me. This time it did not take the expextant looks from both our families to persuade me to say yes. It was the knowledge that he would be within a few feet of Jesse. If hecould smell someone on me last night then it would take him mere seconds to realise that it was the blacksmith's assistant. As a shifter, Paul's senses were heightened. If I was there, I could at least prevent something bad from happening.

Couldn't I?

* * *

**AN -Another slow chapter. But I'm glad that Paul is back in now. Now I can start having some fun :).**

**Don't forget to review!**


	7. Betrayal

**Cursed**

"How have things been?" Paul asked as we drew closer to the village. All my attempts at avoiding a conversation had failed.

"They were much better until you returned," I replied bitterly.

He turned to face me as he aproached the doors to the blacksmith's shop and smiled. I knew that he had only insisted that I accompany him so that he could torture me like this. I sighed and pushed past him. I know how much Henry hates Paul. I may be cruel, but I wont let the old man face him alone.

"Henry, we need a shoe change," I yelled. There was a muffled banging noise from the other room and after a few seconds a very sooty Henry emerged.

He smiled when he saw me, but simply scowled when his eyes fell on the boy at my side.

"Lady Ackerman," he said, nodding in recognition. He never called me Suze when my family or Paul's were around. "Mr. Slater."

"It's Simon, actually," I pointed out. Henry muttered a hurried apology. This is why I hate telling people who I am. At least Henry treats me like the daughter of his late best friend when we are alone.

"Hector, another one for you," he shouted. Then he turned to us. "Just take the horse round back."

As soon as we were out of earshot, Paul began to laugh.

"I know what you mean now," he said. He was obviously referring to my constant complaining about the way we were treated. He, of course, loved it. Why wouldn't he? People like him thrive on attention, even when it is negative.

As we approached the door to the stables, where Jesse worked, I felt the knot in my stomach tighten. It felt as though a dagger had been plunged into my gut and someone was now twisting it around. I only hoped that Paul knew to keep his mouth shut...and Jesse.

He didn't look up as we entered. He was busy cleaning something when we pushed open the heavy doors. I could not see what it was, but he did not notice us.

"Shoe change?" He asked, throwing the filthy piece of cloth he had been using as a duster aside. He hastily wiped his hands on his black pants as he rose to his feet and, for the first time since we had entered, looked at us.

For a moment, I was terrified that Paul would spot the way that Jesse's eyes lit up as they landed on me. If he wanted to say something, he did not. I noticed the corners of his mouth twitch slightly as we looked at each other. Then his eyes fell on Paul and his face was onceagain unreadable.

"Horse," Paul said, thrusting the reins at Jesse. "He broke a shoe. How long will it take you to fix it?"

I had to close my eyes in disgust at the way he spoke. I hate him, I hate everything about him. It is one thing for him to treat strangers like this, but not people I actually care about. Though I had no intention of informing him of my late night 'meetings' with Jesse.

"Oh," was Jesse's reply. He did not sound as disgusted as I felt at Paul's treatment of him. I guess he was used to people treating him like dirt. "Only a few minutes, assuming that the horse stays still."

I opened my eyes, feeling my anger melting away, to see Paul observing me with great interest. He turned to look at Jesse, who had already begun his work on Paul's unfortunate horse's shoe.

"You are new, aren't you?" Paul asked, his voice softer than before for some reason. Jesse paused his work while he glanced up at him to see who he was talking to.

"I am," Jesse replied, returning to work. Paul smiled. "What is it to you?"

I had to stifle a laugh. Paul was stunned. No man had ever spoken to him like that before.

"I was curious," Paul replied, his voice changing tone again. "And as the governer's son, I have every right to ask questions about the people who live on his land."

Jesse did not bother to hide his amusement. He let it out in the form of a chuckle as the old horse shoe fell to the ground. He reached over and picked up a new one.

"What do you want to know?" He replied, his voice full of amusement. "I am a backsmith's assistant. My life would not interest you or your maid."

My smiled broadened as Paul looked at me in disbelief. He obviously wanted me to say something, but anything I could have said would be in Jesse's defense. I did not want to embarrass him anymore than Jesse already was.

"Done," Jesse said, dropping the horse's leg. "Now, if that is all, I have work to do."

He flashed me a smile as he passed the reins to me. Not to Paul, to _me_. His fingers lightly brushed mine as he gently placed the soft leather into my hands. Our eyes met and suddenly I forgot all about Paul. Jesse smiled at me reassuringly and I felt myself blush at this small action. It is ridiculous.

That was when I realised that I had made a huge mistake. It took only one glance at Paul to see the recognition in his eyes.

_He knew_.

He smiled knowingly at me as I suddenly pulled the reins out of Jesse's hands.Suddenly, I felt cold. I did not doubt that the colour had drained from my face. That, I was sure, was what assured Paul that Jesse was the 'someone' I had snuck out to see last night.

Surprisingly, he did not say a thing. Instead, he took the reins from me and took the horse outside.

Seeing the confusion in Jesse's eyes, I was about to explain to him who exactly Paul was when a deep voice called out from behind me.

"Lady Simon."

Paul's voice was as cold as it has always been. But this time there was something else present. Malice, unless I am mistaken.

In an instant, the confusion in Jesse's eyes vanished and in its place lay emotions that tugged on my heartstrings until they were about to snap.

Hurt.

Betrayal.

Disbelief.

Fear.

I was on the verge of tears by the time he spoke.

"You better go ma'am," he said, his voice taking on that respectful tone that I had become accustomed to hearing. But it did not suit that voice.

"Don't be like this," I begged. His eyes took in my attire, travellingfrom my expensive heeled shoes all the way to my immaculate hair.

He didn't reply. Not verbally. But the way that his eyes so perfectly displayed the hurt he was feeling said all that needed to be said.

I pulled my cotton shawl over my shoulders, but it did nothing to chase away the chill that caused my skin to itch and my heart to stop beating.

"She is right," I heard my father's voice say from somewhere behind Jesse. I was incapable of tearing my eyes away from the eyes which were so full of hurt and betrayal...negative emotions caused by me. "Don't throw all you have away because of class."

Something happened at that moment, something that changed everything between Jesse and myself.

I looked at my father, but his eyes were not on me. Instead, they were on the man infront of me, who had also turned to look at my father.

I gasped. The sound was torn from me and Jesse spun back around. This time the disbelief in his eyes was not because of my social status. This time it was because of my gift...that curse I had spent all of my life condemning.

_The gift that Jesse and I share._

"Susannah?" Jesse's voice was faint, yet I could still detect the emotions hidden in it.

"Suze!" I spun around to find Paul, who had thankfully stepped outside, thrust his head between the gap in the doors. "Hurry up."

But I had no intention of following Paul. Nor did I have any intention of staying with Jesse. Instead, I picked up my skirt and ran through the back door of the stable, throughthe store room and out into the village.

* * *

**AN - I know it's short, but I had to get that out. Now that Paul knows the truth (or does he _really_), all hell can start to break loose.**

**So...review and let me know what you think :). And if you have time, check out my other current fic, Something Wicked...it's rating will probably o up to 'M' next chapter...And keep your eyes open for a new story whenever I manage to squish all of my ideas into a prologue...it's inspired by the movie 'The Frighteners'...and so far it's called 'DeathAin't No Way To MakeA Living'.**


	8. Truth

**Cursed**

_Never deprive someone of hope; it may be all they have - **H. Jackson Brown Jr.**_

I did not know where I was running to. I only knew that I had to get as far away from the mess I had created as I could.

I knew that people were staring. It is not every day that a well-dressed woman sprints through the village. But I did not care. Come tomorrow, it would be old news. All I could think of now was getting to the church. Father Dominic would know what to do. He always did.

The problem was that Father Dominic was not at the church. The priest in the confessional did not know where he was, either. So I settled for the cemetary around the back of the church. I do not know why, but I find cemetaries very peaceful. There are usually no ghosts in the vicinity and the townsfolk found them morbid. Unless they had relatives buried there. Which I did.

**_Peter Simon_**

**_Beloved husband, father and friend_**

**_Taken from us age 28_**

The flowers my mother had placed there on the eleventh anniversary of his death last month had already wilted. My father was good friends with Father Dominic, despite having little to no religious beliefs, so the good father had arranged for his grave to be dug in the church's cemetary. The church has ways.

I carefully picked up the wilted roses, several petals breaking off as I did so, and replaced them with ones I plucked from a nearby rose bush. Why did he have to go? We still needed him here. We have always needed him.

I allowed my tears to flow freely and resisted the temptation to fall to my knees.

"How do I get myself into these situations?" I asked the earth above my father's body. "Why do I always mess everything up?"

I sobbed freely into my hands, unaware of the movement behind me. It wasn't until he spoke that I realised I was not alone.

"We all make mistakes," the voice said. It did not belong to the man that I was expecting. The voice was gentler than my fathers, deeper and was spoken with a barely noticable accent that caressed every word.

"Susannah, we need to talk," Jesse told me. I did not turn to face him. It took me a few moments to realise that he had called me 'Susannah' and not 'Lady Simon'. That was when my body twisted itself around to face him.

His expression changed when he saw my face. I instinctively lifted a hand to wipe away the mak-up that was no doubt currently half way down my face. He twitched slightly as if he wanted to wipe my tears away himself, but stopped himself. This was not good sign.

"What is there to talk about?" I asked, taking a pre-emptive strike. "I lied to you, you hate me, I should move on."

He sighed and ran a hand through his now-messed-up hair.

"Susannah, I do _not _hate you," he insisted. "Though I am hurt that you would lie to me about something so important."

"Class? Important?" I laughed freely. For some reason, I found this quite hilarious. "Things like that are of no importance to me. If you knew me, then you would know that much."

"But I _don't_ know you, Susannah!" He yelled. I was so shocked by his sudden outburst that I took a step back, almost falling backwards over my father's headstone. "That is the problem! I thought that I knew you, but it turns out that you are a completely different person!"

I laughed again. I was beyond the point of being devastated right now. At that moment, everything seemed to be utterly hilarious. Even though my relationship - and my heart - was being torn to shreds.

"Oh, I'm the same and you know it!" I shouted back, laughing as I did so. "The only thing that is different now is your feelings for me. _Nothing_ else has changed. And what about you? You never mentioned that you were a mediator."

Jesse began to take steps towards me. Now he looked livid. A single muscle in his jaw began to twitch.

"I never said that my feelings for you had changed!" He yelled. "I love you, Susannah and nothing will ever change that! I-"

He froze upon realising what he had said, and so did I. In an instant, all of the rage inside of me washed away. He..._loved_ me? My own feelings for him suddenly bubbled to the surface. I have never felt so much love and adoration towards anyone before in my whole life.

"Say that again?" I asked, my voice shaking. He simply looked at me with an 'oh, no' look in his eyes. He closed them eventually and shook his head, as if he were in pain. Which he might have been...I do not know how men work emotionally.

"I love you," he choked out. "I love you so much that it hurts. And it hurts even more to know that you do not feel the same way."

I laughed in disbelief. How could he think that? I risk being accused of witchcraft for him and he does not think that I reciprocate his feelings?

"Did you...did you ever stop to ask me how I felt?" I asked, milking the situation for all it was worth. I could feel tears once again forming in the corners of my eyes. "Or did you just assume that this was the case? I love you, Jesse! How could you not realise that? I risk my life every night when I sneak out to see you. Or does that fact not come into the equation?"

I saw the corners of his mouth twitch, as if he was fighting back a smile. All I wished to do was to throw my arms around him and beg him to tell me that everything was alright. If he felt the same way about me as I did about him, then right now he wanted to do exactly the same. But why was he fighting the urge? What was stopping him from kissing all of my pain away and allowing me to soothe his with gentle words?

"Then why did you lie to me?" He asked, the hurt in his voice acting like a dagger through my aching heart. "Why did you tell me that you were someone you were not?"

I sighed in defeat. My mother always told me that secrets come back to haunt you. I walked over to the bench at the far end of the grave yard and sat down on it. This is going to be a long day, I can tell.

"I lied because I did not want you to treat me like everyone else," I admitted. I did not want to lie. I have done enough of that already. "I did not want you to tiptoe around me and treat me like glass. I hate it when people treat me like some dainty figurine. I am human and I wanted you to treat me like a human, not a snob." I laughed involuntarily when I spoke those last few words.

I did not realise that I was crying until Jesse sat beside me and placed a hand on my back. I lifted my head out of my hands and removed my elbows from my knees, where they had left two small red circles.

"I would never-" he started, choking on his words. "If you had just told me, I would not have treated you like that."

"Don't lie," I sobbed. "I saw it in your eyes back there. When you called me 'ma'am'. It wasn't until my father showed up-"

Jesse groaned and removed his hand.

"Your _father_?" He asked. He did not wait for a reply before groaning again and leaning forward, placing his head in his hand in exactly the same way that I had before.

The way that he blushed told me that he had said things to my father about me. I became intrigued and vowed to ask my father exactly what he had said.

"You never did answer my question," I pointed out. "Why did you not tell me you were a mediator?"

The answer was obvious, but I believe that I was trying to steer the focus of our conversation away from my betrayal.

"In this day and age," he told me, lifting his head. "Gifts like ours are seen as satanic. It is not only women who are accused of witchcraft, Susannah. If anyone found out, I would be executed. I did not tell you for the same reason you did not tell me about _your _gift."

I laughed humourlessly.

"We aren't gifted," I whispered. "We are cursed."

Silence fell upon the graveyard. We were both lost for words.

"I am sorry I lied to you," I apoligised, blinking back a fresh wave of tears. "I never meant for anyone to get hurt. I just...I just wanted you to love me for who I am."

I wish that I did not feel so pathetic as I did then. I felt him shift beside me and soon, his arm was around me, holding me close to him. The warmth he provided seemed almost pleasurable. I did what seemed natural and leaned into him.

"I _do_ love you for who you are," he insisted. "Please, just promise me one thing...no more lies."

I smiled as joy consumed me.

"No more lies," I agreed. "To prove that...tell me why you ran away."

He looked at me in confusion. I rolled my eyes.

"Everyone knows that you are a runaway," I explained. "Only nobody knows what you ran away from. Surely it could not have been worse than this place."

"I beg to differ," he laughed, leaning back into the wall and pulling me with him. "My family...they own a ranch. They breed horses. I was expected to inherit the ranch once they died and work it to support my sisters. Unfortunately, because they were so rich, arranged marriages were organised for their children. My wife-to-be was my cousin, Maria. I did not wish to marry her, but it would have dishonoured my family if I had refused. I did not want to be forced into a loveless marriage, so I tried to find a way out of it. Then I found out that she was in love with a man named Diego...a slave runner. I tried to use that information to call off the wedding, but our parents would not have it. As long as Maria agreed to the match, there was nothing I could do. I was not willing to admit that I did not want to marry her because I did not love her. That would have been an embarassment. But Diego knew that I was causing too much trouble. Maria asked him to kill me." I gasped, but he ignored this and continued. "I was out with the horses one day and we fought...we got dangerously close to the cliff and...I punched him and he lost his footing. I left before they could find his body. I never looked back."

I moved closer to him and placed my left arm around his waist. I felt for him. Now I know what was bothering him the night that he shot the witchfinder.

It was then that I realised that alone, we were cursed. But together...things were not so bad.

-+-

"Do not sneak out tonight," he told me, holding my shivering form close to him. "It will be too dangerous." I nodded in agreement. Now that Paul knew about us, he would no doubt be planning to seperate us.

"When will I see you again?" I asked.

"Soon," he promised, sealing it with a kiss. "Now go!"

Before I could protest, he jogged back to his horse and took off down the hill, leaving me to shiver in front of my house. Fortunately, there was no sign of Paul. I don't think that I could face his questions. He would already be mad at me for taking off like that. In fact, I was surprised that he had not attempted to find me.

As I entered my house, the first thing that I noticed was the rush. People I had never met before sprinted past me in a rush to get somewhere. From the middle of all the commotion, I heard my mother shout my name. A few moments later, a cold hand pressed itself against my back and pushed me towards the lounge.

"You are a very lucky girl," Marianne told me, steering me towards my mother's voice.

I stumbled into the living room to see various pieces of expensive-looking fabric spread out on the divans. My mother beckoned me forward and reached for a box on the divan next to her.

"The dresses were delivered today!" She announced, unable to conceal her excitement. "They are exquisite!"

I looked around in confusion. The servant girls and the maids were huddled around the doorway, desperate for a glimpse of the material. I held up a hand and signalled to them that they could enter. They were almost falling over themselves to get close.

"What dresses?" I asked. I could not remember ordering any dresses. But my other orders all of my clothes for me.

She raised an eyebrow and sighed when she realised that I genuinely did not know.

"The ball!" She announced. "The governer's annual ball this weekend! Do not tell me that you forgot..."

Oh.

Every year the governer holds a ball for all of the rich socialites. He invites aristocrats from neighbouring counties in an attempt to increase his ever-growing social circle. I hear that it is a special occasion this year. I guess that means celebrating his and Paul's return.

My mother pulled my dress out of its box and I gasped. I was not the only one, either. All of the servant girls and maids began to 'ooh' and 'aah' and tell me how good I would look in it. And I did not doubt it.

The dress was emerald, to match my eyes, and the top part was an overbust corset. On the front of the corset was an intricate design with twists and curls that ran down one side of the skirt. The bones in the corset were almost invisible, with a faint line of stitching where they ran. My mother flipped the dress around and I saw that the back of the corset was laced with a silk-like material, signalling that it was not a _real _corset. I breathed a sigh of relief. I still have the bruises from the last corset I wore.

"It is...breathtaking," I told her. She smiled, obviously glad that I liked it. It must have been extremely expensive.

"It is perfect for you, ma'am," one of the servants, Sophia, said. I smiled in appreciation. Whoever the tailor was, he must be very proud of this creation.

"It is a shame that Jesse will not see you wearing it," Marianne said, bringing me back to reality.

Jesse would love that dress. He always tells me that my eyes are beautiful, and this dress brings out everything good about them. Why does he have to be a blacksmith?

Marianne obviously thought along the same lines, because she muttered something. I could not make it all out, but the word 'rancher' stood out.

_That was it!_

In this country, the king and queen rule over the whole land, while governers rule over the individual counties. The governers are responsible for everything that goes on in their land and make up the second-highest level of the aristocracy. The next level down consists of those who provide for the governers and the royalty. These are the people who are invited to the balls, the people who are treated with respect and include tailors, aides, priests, architects, politicians and...ranchers. The ranchers breed horses for the wealthy and a lot of them even teach the young aristocrats to ride. Ranchers are few and far between, so aritocrats often have to order horses from miles away, often out of the country. Jesse's family own a ranch and even though he ran away, he is still their son and therefore still elegible to attend one of the governer's prestigious balls.

"Mother," I asked sweetly as she folded my dress up and placed in gently into the box. "Do we still have the privilege of inviting a guest?"

She smiled at me and stood up.

"We do," she replied. "But only one guest per person. We are lucky to be so close to the governer. No other family has this privilege. Were you thinking of inviting someone?"

I looked thoughtful for a moment. If I were to invite Jesse, I would be bringing him dangerously close to Paul. But on the other hand, there would be so many people there that Paul would not dare do anything. As far as dress went, I am sure that I could borrow some formal wear from one of my step brothers. Jake is roughly the same height and build as Jesse.

If Jesse and I could convince my parents that he was right for me, I may be able to persuade them into allowing us to marry. Eventually. After all, Andy _did_ marry my mother. Although, farmers are higher on the social ladder than blacksmiths. Much higher.

"I am proud of you, Suzie," she told me. "It is not easy to adapt to a life like this, but you have done it well.Now if only you would settle down and marry..."

"Mother," I warned. She sighed at my reaction and began to fix my hair. I know that I am not the daughter she wishes I was. She wants me to marry Paul. Everybody does. But like Jesse, I don't wish to be forced into a loveless marriage. And I would rather turn myself in as a witch than marry Paul Slater.

I turned and made my way to one of the free divans, lowering myself onto it gently.

"Invite him," Marianne instructed me. "Things are going to turn sour. The governer's guest is the man who put me to death. Maybe you can help me."

I squeezed her hand once she sat beside me. I realised for the first time that I had done almost nothing to help her. If the man who put her to death was indeed attending the ball, then I had the perfect excuse for Jesse to be my guest.

In retrospect, I should have asked who this man was. Because if I had known, then I never would have attended the ball.

I also should have had _some_ clue, if the look in Paul's eye when he passed the lounge was anything to go by. But I did not think that even Paul Slater would go that far...

-+-

**AN - I _finally_ got it finished! I couldn't think of a way to end that chapter...so excuse me if it seems a tad forced.**

**This was basically another filler...I just needed to get a few things out in the open.**

**For those of you who don't know who Matthew Hopkins is...look him up...or not :S. I can't use him because he is/_was_ a real person, but...I'll shut up right now before I give away the rest of the story, heh.**


	9. The Lesser Of Four Evils

**Cursed**

_"Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from a religious conviction." - **Blaise Pascal**_

He never travels in daylight. He does not like to be seen. Yet as he made his way to this village, he did not seem to care about wandering eyes. His horse-drawn carriage swayed from side to side as they drew closer to their destination but for once, he did not feel travel sick. There was something about this place...the town in the hills.

"Why did you accept the invitation?" asked one of the man's companions. He was cloaked in the shadows, the brim of his hat pulled down over his dark eyes. Not many people have seen this man's face and lived to tell the tale.

"Mr. Slater is an old friend," was the reply. "Apparantly this town has a problem and he requires my assistance to solve it."

He raised a hand to his bearded chin and gently rubbed the rough, dark hair. His fingers were long and calloused and numerous expensive rings decorated them, giving him an air of sophistication. But sophistication is a word this man knew little about. Once these long, bejewelled fingers had worked their way to the tip of his short beard, they fell to a wooden cross around his neck. His fingers wrapped around it, gripping it so tight that the sharp edges dug into his skin.

"These people deserve to be free of those monsters," he told his companions. "When I am through with this town, no witch will think of settling there again."

This statement elicited a smile from his female companion. She leaned forward, the moonlight illuminating her features and held a hand out towards her friend.

"You need not worry," she told him. "The aristocrats of this village will not be a problem. They will do anything to protect their people."

"As will I," the man whispered, closing his eyes and uttering a short prayer. "These abominations are heretic. They are not human, therefore I have no qualms about what I do."

The female laughed hysterically.

"Errol, my dear, you need not fake compassion now," she told him, dragging a long, white finger down one of his cheeks. "We are your friends."

Errol chuckled at his 'friend'. His thin, dry lips twisted into a cruel smile as he took her hand in his and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it, causing her to giggle slightly as his rough beard tickled her skin.

"What do you think the number will be here?" asked his hidden colleague, tearing his eyes away from the setting sun. "More than last time?"

Errol tilted his head back and smiled.

"I do not doubt it," he answered. "Can you not feel it? There is something in the air here."

He raised a hand and placed it on the door of the carriage. The smooth wood felt pleasant and cool beneath his fingertips. Something stirred inside of him, a knot of anticipation. He did not know what to expect in this town. The aristocracy of this quiet area was fairly small and consisted mainly of the governer and his best friend...an architect...Andrew Ackerman. He knew that Andrew Ackerman and his wife were having problems encouraging their daughter to marry. It was something he intended to look into. Disobedience can be caused by bewitchment. If this girl was under the spell of some witch, then it was his duty to put the witch in question to death. But if it turned out that the girl was a witch herself...there would be problems, what with her social status, but Errol Quinn always got his way. The terror that his actions caused every man and woman to feel gave him power over the townsfolk. Everyone knows his name. Everyone knows what he is...what he does. But they do not try to stop him.

They just pray that he never comes for them.

-+-

I was wrong about the dress. Although the top of the dress was not a corset, I had to wear one underneath in order to fit into it. My mother loaned me one of her underbust corsets and one of the servant girls helped me tie it. I instructed her not to pull the ties too tight and eventually I was able to fit into my dress and still breathe.

"You look very elegant, ma'am," she said whilst she pinned my hair in an updo. Another servant girl crouched next to me and applied my make-up. I could have done it by myself, but my mother insisted that I allowed one of the servants to do it. 'What else are they for?' she had said.

"Will your lover be attending the ball?" The girl attending to my hair asked, as casually as she would ask the time.

I inhaled sharply in surprise, almost knocking the girl doing my make-up over.

"Julia!" I gasped, completely taken aback by what she had said. "Paul is not my lover!"

She giggled when I said this, as did Francesca, my make-up artist.

"Oh, I did not mean Mr. Slater, silly," Julia laughed. "I was referring to that gorgeous Spanish boy."

This time I_ did_ knock Francesca. In fact, I was so shocked that I accidentally knocked her hand, causing her to draw a black line down my cheek.

"How...how do you know?" I demanded, sounding more hostile than I had intended. My own hands were shaking so hard that I had to grip the edge of the dresser to disguise this.

Francesca swallowed hard and began to repair the damage that my twitch had caused.

"We often wake during the night to complete unfinished chores," she explained. "We sometimes see you sneaking out. And we once saw you kissing him. But do not worry, we are fond of you...your secret is safe with us."

She smiled and stood back to admire her work. I checked my reflection in the mirror and saw that she was, indeed, quite the artist. There was not a single smudge.

"What do you know about him?" I enquired, my voice shaking as much as my hands were.

"Oh, we know that he is gorgeous," Julia said with a giggle. "And we can tell that he is very much in love with you."

I blinked back tears at this statement. I did not want to ruin Francesca's fantastic work. Her words caused me to remember the fact that Jesse and I could never truly be together.

"Oh, no," she said, hastily sliding the last hairclip into place so that she could place a comforting arm around my shoulder. "What is the matter? We never meant to make you cry."

I laughed quietly and waved a hand to signal that it was alright.

"He is not my lover," I told them, my voice distant as Julia helped me to my feet. "Nor will he ever be. He is a blacksmith. Worse than that...he is a blacksmith's assistant."

I shook my head in denial as I made my way out of my room. My mother reached for my hand as soon as I entered the lounge and the servant girls ran off to parts of the house unknown.

"When will your gust be arriving," my mother asked, checking my make-up and hair. She seemed happy enough with it and smiled in approval.

"I am to meet him at the governer's house," I informed her.

"Who is he?" she asked, causing me to twitch again.

"Oh, he...uh...his family owns a ranch...they breed horses," I explained. "They are one of the richest ranch-owning families in Spain." I conveniently missed out the fact that he had turned his back on his family, essentially depriving himself of their status.

My mother seemed ecstatic with this news, despite the fact that _I_ had not understood a word I had said.

"That is great, Suzie!" she gasped, her smile threatening to split her face in half. "You _are_ becoming too old to be unmarried."

I blushed. I did not have the heart to tell her that, despite how much I wanted to, I could not marry Jesse. Not in this lifetime, at least.

A carriage took us to the governer's mansion despite the building being right next to our own house. As members of high-class society, we needed to make an entrance. Which was just what we did.

The driver opened the carriage door for us and held out a hand to help my mother and I climb down.

I was astonished at the number of people who were attending the ball. We were surrounded by laughter and metres of expensive material draped around stick-thin figures. Many of the women had waists so small that it caused my eyes to water. The corset I wore was not tied tight enough to alter the shape of my waist yet it was still painful.

One of the governer's servants showed us to the ballroom where even more people were gathered, the goverener and his family seated at a long table at the far end of the large room.

I felt nervous making my way through the crowd as I wore the most revealing dress there. The sleeves of my dress were merely thick strips of material which barely clinged to my shoulders. Where they met the dress, a single black precious stone was sewn and it dug into my armpits if I moved too fast. The skirt of my dress spread out artificially where the corset ended, making my waist seem smaller than it was. The other women in the room wore dresses with large, puffy sleeves and their skirts were almost big enough for a small child to hide under. Then again, most of the women were ten years or more older than me. I pulled my silk shawl tighter against my shoulders as my mother led me towards the governer's table where six seats had been reserved for us.

I realised as we took our seats (thankfully I obtained the seat furthest from Paul) that there were three empty seats beside the governer. They must be for his 'special' guests, no doubt. I did not plan to remain seated for long. I planned to spend most of the night with Jesse, far from my family and Paul. Paul would no doubt let Jesse's true status slip.

The band started to play shortly after we arrived and many of the guests began to dance to the slow, mournful song. My mother and Andy left the table with the governer and his wife and made their way towards the dancefloor. They are good dancers, but it is too embarassing to watch your parents dance.

Left alone at the table with the owner of our town's small, almost pointless ranch, the monsignor and Father Dominic, I began to feel aware of Paul's eyes on me. When I lifted my own I realised that hewas not looking at my face. Feeling uncomfortable, I pulled the front of my dress up, unintentionally knocking the oversized necklace that rested haphazardly on my bosom. For a member of the aristocracy, Paul certainly lacked a sense of propriety. He licked his lips subtly and placed a hand on the table, no doubt to push himself up so that he could force me to dance with him.

As luck would have it, before he had the chance to stand up, one of his servants appeared and whispered something in his ear. Seemingly slightly irritated, he waved the servant off and then stood up and walked through a door on the far wall. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I was safe from his wandering hands and eyes for now.

He was not gone two minutes when I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. I knew who it was instantly. My skin would not tingle if that hand belonged to any other man. I turned my head and smiled when our eyes met. He looked incredibly handsome tonight. He was wearing formal wear that he had managed to rescue from his parent's ranch in Spain. His trousers were as tight as they usually were, but the knee-high boots he wore were unblemished and showed no signs of wear and tear. The shirt that he wore had ruffles down the chest, to where the black waistcoat he wore began. Unfortunately, the black coat he wore covered his muscular arms. Many other men were dressed in a similar way, but they all looked ridiculous. Jesse looked as though he was born wearing that outfit.

He held out a hand and smiled down at me.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, causing my heart to swell with adoration towards him.

I raised one of my own, gloved hands and took his.

"You may," I answered, smiling flirtatiously as he helped me to my feet.

The band began to play another slow song as we approached the floor, but this song was more cheerful than their first. It was almost romantic.

Unfortunately the song had a dance and I am a very poor dancer. I only remember the fast dances. I told Jesse this, but he simply laughed.

"I know this one well," he whispered, his lips dangerously close to my ear. "Follow my lead."

I tried my best not to step on his feet but I did mess up often. Fortunately Jesse had more patience than the other men who had the misfortune to dance with me and he gripped my hand and my waist tight enough so that I did not fall when I stumbled. Eventually we moved in synchronicty and his feet were spared the assault rained down on them by my own.

"You look beautiful tonight, _querida_," he told me, spinning me around. Amazingly, I did not stumble.

"You look terrible," I joked. He laughed at this and brought his face close to mine. I wished that he would not do that. Everytime his lips came within inches of my own I had the urge to capture them with my own.

"Where is this ghost?" he asked. I could hear a smile in his voice and I knew instantly that he had seen through my pathetic excuse.

"Oh," I said, feeling my cheeks burn. "She will be here...somewhere."

I spun around again and ended up with my back to him. Thankfully, this was part of the dance. despite the layers of material between us, I could feel his large bicep against my bare arm. I closed my eyes momentarily.

"Oh, I want to kiss you so much," I muttered. I felt him sigh, signalling that he felt the same way. Unfortunately, only people who were either married or engaged to be married were supposed to kiss. Unless, of course, you were a whore, which I was most certainly not.

He spun me back around so that we were facing again and, as the song ended, placed a hand in the small of my back and dipped me.

I do not know why, maybe it was the position of his hand, but I was suddenly overcome by a powerful feeling. I felt it throughout my body, mainly in places that I was sure I should not be feeling it in. By the time he pulled me upright, I was delerious. I could vaguely make out the opening notes of a faster song. I knew this one.

"Do you...want this dance, too?" I asked, desperately attempting to shake off that peculiar feeling.

"I would not dream of refusing it," Jesse laughed, taking my hand as the music sped up.

His hand moved from my back to my waist as he once again supported me. When we danced, we danced _together_. When I was learning these dances, the men who were paired with me (more often than not, this would be Paul) danced of their own accord, not waiting for me to catch up or recover from a mistake. They spun me so quickly that I felt sick and twisted me so violently that I was afraid my neck would snap. Jesse, however, took notice of everything I did. He spun me gently, twisted me only slightly, held me so that I would not slip and he helped me disguise my slip-ups. This man was truly perfect in every way.

I laughed freely as we sped across the dance floor expertly. This was obviously a dance that he also knew well. I caught my mother's eye as we moved past her and she smiled at me, her eyes filled with a happiness I had not seen since my father died.

Jesse pulled me into him (all part of the dance, of course), one hand on my waist and the other holding my free hand in the air. I am sad to say that the peculiar feeling returned. I felt as though I was burning up. My corset suddenly felt too tight, too restricting and the moisure on my arms caused my black, elbow-length gloves to cling uncomfortably to my skin.

"I love you, Susannah Simon," Jesse spoke into my hair, sounding out of breath for some reason.

We suddenly pulled apart and stepped back so that the only part of our bodies that were touching were our hands. This was the end of the song.

We smiled at each other for a brief second before I felt my mother's hands on my upper arms. For some reason, the band had not started to play another song.

"Susannah, where are your manners?" she joked. "Are you not going to introduce me to your dashing friend?"

I blushed again. My mother loves to embarrass me.

Fortunately, before she had a chance to reply, the governer (who had somehow made his way back to the 'VIP' table) tapped his glass, causing the room to fall silent.

"Ladies and gentleman," he started. "Thank you all for attending this ball. I apologise for interrupting your fun, but I have an announcement to make."

I rolled my eyes. No doubt it was the guests, whoever they were. They must have been important if he was taking the effort to introduce them to the congregation but if they were not the king and queen, then I did not care much for them.

"As you all know, witchcraft is a growing problem not only in this town but all across this glorious country," he continued. Suddenly he had my full attention. "My son Paul has been so kind as to seek the help of...shall we say, professionals? Therefore, I am pleased to introduce..."

I noticed the door Paul had left through earlier open and three people walke through it. Two men and one woman. The woman wore a ridiculously extravagant dress and the faces of the men were disguised by large hats. All three of them wore expensive attire and on of the men wore a wooden cross around his neck.

"Patricia Vasquez."

When they arrived next to Paul, they turned to the front and one of the men, the one with the cross around his neck, lifted his head so that his face was visible to the crowd.

And I froze.

"Kirk Fullham."

I had not seen this man before, but I recognised him from his description. Jaw-length dark hair, short beard, the coldest eyes you could ever see.

"And it is my great honour to introduce...Errol Quinn."

The whole ballroom erupted with applause. I, on the other hand, found it difficult to breathe. My head swimming with a thousand bad thoughts as I looked in Paul's direction. His cold eyes met mine and I was left with no doubt that he had invited the infamous Mr. Quinn. Feeling sick to my stomach, I turned and ran from the ballroom, my mother and Jesse calling after me. Everyone was too busy cheering to notice me as I passed them. I did not stop running until I reached the governer's oversized garden. My legs failing me, I sank down onto a stone bench in the centre of a clearing. For once I did not notice the overpowering scent of the flowers and the running water of the fountain. I did not even hear Jesse's footsteps until he sat down beside me.

"_Querida_, what is it?" he asked, sounding genuinely worried. I could not look at him. My eyes were itching from the tears that I somehow could not cry.

"Is it that man?" he asked. "Do you know him?"

I lifted my head and looked at him incredulously. It took me a moment to realise that he was not a native of this country and therefore did not know the extent of the devastation caused by _'that man'_.

"Errol Quinn," I sobbed, my eyes still as dry as they were in the ballroom. I was amazed that I coudl talk; my fear seemed to have concentrated into a large ball which blocked my throat making breathing painful. "They call him the 'Witchfinder General'. He...he is responsible for more deaths than any other witchfinder in the country. Not only that but he uses the most...horrific methods to get you to confess. Most of his victims confess within days, unable to withstand the pain. Torture in trials is against the law, but he does not care. He breaks every law with his methods. Paul did this to split us up. He knows how terrified I am of the witchfinders."

Jesse placed a hand on my back and I flinced, frightened by the sudden contact. I calmed down after a few seconds and allowed him to place his arm around me. I found comfort in his warmth.

"I would die for you, _querida_," he whispered, as serious as he could be. Although he meant to comfort me, this admission terrified me more than the governer's announcement.

"Don't _ever_ say that!" I told him, my voice hoarse for some reason. "Don't you ever say that."

I began to shake as the tears I had been holding back for so long appeared. He held me tighter and whispered soothing Spanish words to calm me down.

"What do we do now?" I asked, my voice still shaking. "If Quinn finds out about us...the governer may be able to save me, but you will be helpless."

"He has no reason to accuse me," Jesse whispered. "And I am sure that Paul only intended to scare you. If he does love you then he would never allow Quinn to lay hands on you."

I leaned into him further and he gently held my chin to turn my head towards him.

"What a mess," he laughed, raising the hand to my eyes and gently brushing the skin beneath them with his thumb. When he finished, he smiled and said "passable". That was when I realised that he had fixed my ruined make-up. This just made me want to cry again. Instead, I settled for resting my forehead against his and allowing him to kiss me softly. His free hand moved to my cheek and he slid his fingers around the back of my neck. I felt one of my hairclips slide out of place, but I did not care...all that mattered was this moment.

The fact that he would rather stay with me and risk his life proved just how much he really loved me. As we continued to kiss, his tongue gently easing itself into my mouth, the _feeling_ returned. My body wanted something that my brain did not quite understand. Everytime Jesse's skin touched mine, everytime his tongue teased mine the feeling intensified until I could not sit still. Places of my body that are not quite appropriate to discuss in civilised conversation ached for attention. I had to break the kiss off, lest I lose control of myself.

"You make me feel...unnatural things," I whispered, resting my forehead against his. Is this what the witchfinders punish? Feelings like this were too good to be right. Was_ this_ witchcraft? Was this what people were dying for?

I do not know how long we sat there together, only that when we returned to the ballroom I felt more confident than when I left. I was able to look Paul in the eye and show him that his pathetic little ploy had failed. He even seemed taken aback.

My only business with Errol Quinn was related to Marianne. I even found the courage to flash him a smile...a smile that he returned.

**AN - Phew...done. When you imagine Quinn, think of Matthew Hopkins.**

**Thank you again to all my reviewers, but...my hits are going up yet my reviews are going down. Please, please, please review! I know that I do this for fun, bit it is _great_ to get feedback and I_ love_ to know where I am going right/wrong. Reviews are almost as good as Ben & Jerry's ice cream! Except ice cream can't tell you that you screwed up. It has been a while since I wrote in first-person, so I wouldn't mind knowing how I did... I'm quite happy with this chapter, but what do you think?**

**Apologies for spelling mistakes...I will look for them once I have had some sleep...I always overlook them when I am tired...**


	10. Chaos

**Cursed**

The chaos began the day after the ball. Two women and a man were executed in the first week, their trials barely lasting a few days. I longed to visit CeeCee, but I dared not venture into the forest. It was not the fact that Errol Quinn had hired witchfinders to patrol the area or the fact that I may inadvertantly give away the location of the valley. It was the screams, the terrifying sounds ripped from the poor souls that the witchfinder general and his cronies subjected to unthinkable things. No one with a heart would be able to hear those cries for help and not break down.

I did not even sneak out at night to visit Jesse. It became too dangerous what with everyone's increased vigilance and I knew that Paul was waiting for an excuse to turn Jesse in to Quinn. Loathe as I am to admit it, his plan to seperate us was working. The only time Jesse and I spoke was the occasional time I was sent to the blacksmith's. I even started to attend church, not out of fear of the witchfinders, but so that I had an excuse to see Jesse. Needles to say, Father Dominic was not happy about this...he did not like the idea of Jesse and I 'meeting' under his roof, especially since I hold no religious beliefs. If the father was in a good mood he would let us enter the vestry if the monsignor was not in the church. But when I spoke to Jesse, he seemed distant and not very interested in kissing or any other form of physical contact. I was losing him, I knew it, and this hurt more than any pain that the witchfinders could inflict. Maybe he was finally realising that I was not worth risking everything for...that I was not worth risking _anything_ for.

Three weeks passed like this, three terrible weeks. Marianne tried to comfort me, but her attempts were all in vain. She told me all that she knew about Quinn, about the three days she spent locked in a cell as she awaited her execution. Apparantly she was one of the 'lucky' victims who did not stand trial. She told me what she knew about his methods of hunting witches and how to avoid him. Somehow, I did not care about avoiding Quinn. If it meant staying away from Jesse then what was the point?

I became somewhat of an emotional wreck and Paul's constant torment did not help. He asked me to marry him again a few days after the ball and I refused him once again, putting him in a foul mood. So foul that, two weeks later, he walked up to me with an insanely happy grin on his face and asked me if I had heard the news.

"What news?" I asked, sounding bored and weary. I did not have time for his mind games.

"They found the bodies of two witchfinders in the forest," he told me. I felt my blood freeze but I did not change my expression.

"Someone finally had a lick of sense, then," I replied, smiling sweetly. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"One of them was shot and the other was stabbed," he informed me, a glint of something in his eyes. "It looked as though they had been there for a couple of months. You wouldn't happen to have had anything to do with their deaths, would you?"

I swallowed hard before I replied. I should have expected it. To tell the truth, I am amazed that it took so long for the bodies to be found. There was no evidence to suggest that Jesse and I had killed them; Jesse removed the bullet from the witchfinder's body and I wiped my knife clean. But Paul Slater always found a way.

"If you think that you can seperate us, then you are very much mistaken," I told him, sounding more confident than I felt. He chuckled at my confidence. Or lack thereof.

"Susie, Susie, Susie," he purred, moving towards me and blocking my only exit. I was trapped in the corner and my only means of escape was to duck beneath his arm. "You brought this all on yourself. Quinn will find out about the two of you eventually, and when he does...well, I won't stand in his way. If you are lucky, only one of you will be killed."

"You sicken me," I spat, trying to wriggle free as he pressed against me, forcing my body back against the wall. I only wore a thin silk dress, so I could feel all of the heat radiating off him. It was highly uncomfortable.

"Maybe," he laughed, obviously enjoying holding so much power over me. "But I could go to him right now...I could tell him that Jesse bewitched you."

A strangled sob was wrenched from my lips. He smiled in satisfaction and moved closer to me (which I did not think was possible).

"Just what I thought," he muttered to himself. "I could also make him leave. I could send him away and never allow him to return."

"And what would you want in return?" I grimaced in pain and turned my head away from him as he moved his lips towards mine. Why did the house have to be empty?

"I would say your hand in marriage," he laughed, his lips brushing lightly against my neck with every word he spoke. He brought up one of his hands and began to stroke my neck ever so gently. It made my skin tingle and burn...but not for a good reason. "But I think you have made it clear that that will never happen. So...any part of you will do."

As he spoke this last sentence he dragged his finger down my neck to my exposed cleavage and pressed one of his legs between mine. I moaned slightly as his finger swept across the top of my breast. I felt my stomach twist, but not in longing like it did when Jesse was present.

I wanted to slap him for assaulting me in such a way, but unfortunately my hand was pinned to my side by his muscular form. When I realised that for him to fit one of his legs between my own, one of mine had to be inbetween his, I was forced to take more...drastic action. I raised my left knee, eliciting a pained grunt from him as my knee slammed into a very senitive area. My plan worked and he stumbled backwards, falling to the floor with a gripping the place between his legs.

He used very colourful language to tell me off, unable to stand without groaning in pain. It served him right. He should not have attempted to take advantage of me in that way. As soon as he had pulled away from me, I had slid down the wall onto the floor. One of the thick straps of my dress had fallen off my shoulder. I no doubt looked a mess.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on which way you look at it) his verbal attack was cut off by a familiar voice asking what was going on.

From my spot on the floor, I jerked my head in the direction of the voice and mumbled the first thing that came into my head.

"Help me!" I groaned, throwing myself into Errol Quinn's arms. He seemed taken aback, but gripped my arm to prevent me from falling nonetheless.

"What is going on?" he repeated, his voice hard and cold. I prayed that my performance was outstanding, otherwise I would be dragged down to the old miller's cottage to stand 'trial'.

"He...he tried to...!" I sobbed, pointing at Paul, who had somehow pulled himself to his feet.

"I startled her," Paul explained, smiling at the witchfinder general. "She has been unnerved as of late. Someone has been...tormenting her."

I fought back the urge to shout "yes...you!" and agreed with the excuses that Paul fed Quinn. I know that Paul was saving my life, but that did not make it easier for me to agree with him.

It became even harder when Quinn turned to me and assured me that the person responsible for my torment would be found and punished.

I could not look into his cold grey eyes as he spoke. He acted so nice, but I knew who - or, more aptly, what - he was. He was only nice to me because I come from a wealthy family. The only language he speaks is money...and pain.

"I would like to speak to you, Mr. Slater," Quinn stated, turning away from me so quickly that I was startled. "Aboout our payment."

Paul smiled that fake smile he uses so often and signalled for Quinn to enter the dining room.

"Of course," he said, throwing me a devious look before slamming the doors closed behind him.

It was then that I realised I had been holding my breath, so I exhaled and closed my eyes, failing to realise how close I had come to making Errol Quinn an enemy.

I made the most of the time I had (knowing that both Paul and Quinn were occupied) by taking a carriage down to the village to see Jesse. I was still shaken from my encounter with Paul and if one person could calm me, it was Jesse. The journey to the village seemed longer than usual, due to my nerves. I could still feel Paul's fingertips against my skin and the fear that this small action caused me to feel. Paul is a vile, loathsome creature, just like Quinn. At one time I actually believed that Paul had some good in him, he only lacked the ability to use it. Then he took advantage of my good nature and kissed me.

The village was unusually quiet due to Quinn's reign of terror. The people who did venture out of their houses acted too proper and too polite. This was not the village that I grew up in. This was hell in comparison.

Harold was surprised to see me when I entered the blacksmith's shop but he knew that I had came to see Jesse, not him. Harold found out about our relationship a week or two ago and swore not to tell a soul. I trusted Harold completely. After all, he _was_ my father's best friend. He has risked his own life to help my family in the past.

Jesse was also surprised to see me, though his reaction differed from Harold's. He did not look pleased to see me for some reason.

"I just thought that I would visit you while I had the chance," I explained, assuming that his less-than-pleased reaction to my appearance was because I had snuck out to see him again. Oh, how wrong I was.

After greeting me, he returned to work, sorting various pieces of metal into different piles. Why was he acting so cold?

"Jesse," I spoke, moving closer to him and placing a hand on his arm. He suddenly froze, his eyes glued to one of the pieces of metal as I wrapped my fingers around his upper arm. "I thought that you would be glad to see me."

He finally met my gaze and I saw the pain in his eyes. What I did not understand was why it was there. I placed a hand on his cheek, ready to wipe away the tears that were threatening to show. He allowed my hand to rest there for a few moments before one of his hands came up to hold my wrist in a grip so strong that I was sure it would leave a mark.

"Susannah," he said softly, his grip not loosening. "We can't go on like this."

I wrenched my hand from his grip (which was becoming painful) and dicovered that it _had_ left a mark. I was beginning to shake slightly; Jesse is _never_ like this.

"Jesse, what are you talking about?" I demanded. I know that things between us have been different since Quinn's arrival, but there was no need for him to act like this.

I tried to move closer to him, inviting him to wrap his arms around me, but he didn't. He just continued to look at me with pain in his eyes. Maybe this was it. I knew that I was losing him, but somehow I didn't think that I actually would. I had promised myself that if this day ever came, I would be strong and not break down or beg him to stay. But that was then and this is now. I did not want to lose him. He was the only source of comfort I had.

"Susannah, I think that we should end this," he said. He was trying so hard to remain confident but his voice betrayed him. It shook, signalling that he did not _want_ to say these words. Was this some pathetic attempt to keep me safe?

"Jesse, you don't mean that," I said, trying to laugh but not quite managing it. Jesse turned from me and pretended to be highly interested in a blemish on the floor. He was trying to act cold, I knew it, but his body language was all wrong. He seemed torn between taking me into his arms and throwing me out onto the street.

"I do," he told me, still not turning back around. "Susannah, I...I don't love you anymore."

I actually did laugh this time, though it was only to hide my shock. I took a step toward him and once again placed a hand on his arm. I felt his muscles tense beneath my finger, showing that my touch _still_ affected him.

"Say that again and I might believe you," I told him, more confident now that I knew he was lying. "And this time, try to look me in the eyes when you speak."

He slowly turned to face me and his dark, loving eyes met my nervous green ones.

"Susannah, I don't-" he started to say. As soon as he spoke, the knot in my stomach returned, loosening only when he broke off. He tore his eyes away from mine and closed them, moisture gathering beneath his lids.

"Jesse," I whispered, holding out an arm to prevent him from turning away again. "I know that this is hard. But we will get through it. We have to. If you leave me, I don't know what I will do. I will probably be forced into marrying Paul and...do you know what he did to me today? He had the audacity to ask me to...well, he asked me to do something that I would never consider. Not with him. He threatened you, too. He said that if I slept with him, he would forget all about us and send Quinn home. Do you see why I need you now? I can't cope with all of this on my own. I need you."

A flicker of something violent was momentarily visible in his eyes after I had spoken.

"Susannah," he choked, obviously biting back some foul language to describe Paul. "_Querida_, you can't- Where do we go from here? We have no future. We can't marry, we can't have children. All that this relationship will amount to is heartache. Surely you can see that?"

Of course I can see that. I think about our future, or lack thereof, all of the time. It hurts to know that we have gone as far as we can.

"Not here," I muttered, unaware of what was on my mind until I spoke. "We could leave. Together. We could go far away from here."

Jesse laughed at this. He still would not touch me, but at least he was smiling now. And calling me _'querida'_.

"Where would we go?" he asked, finding the whole idea ludicrous for some reason. "What would you tell your family?"

"Anywhere!" I replied. "Somewhere nobody knows who we are. Somewhere we can be together without having to sneak around. I am sick and tired of pretending that I am not in love! My family does not need to know...they will only hold us down."

I was so excited by the prospect of being somewhere Jesse and I could be together properly I did not stop to consider what it meant giving up. I knew that it would never happen, but somewhere along the line I had forgotten where fantasy ended and reality began.

"Susannah, as much as I would love that, it just is not an option," he told me, bringing me back down to reality. "You have too much to lose here. And I ran away from _my_ life, remember? I ran away because I was ashamed of what I had done...of what I had become. Things are different here. I have a life I am satisfied with and I have you. I am not ashamed of you, _querida_, therefore I will not run away again."

I sighed in slight disappointment. The thought of being somewhere nobody judged us made me hapier than I have ever been. But I knew that wherever we went, we were still at risk. The only place we would truly be safe was in the valley. But, unfortunately, the valley was out of bounds for the time being.

For the first time since I had arrived, Jesse moved towards me. He placed a hand on my cheek and gazed longingly into my eyes. I could tell that the prospect of being with me properly was appealing to him, too, but he is a man and has his pride to think of. And, he does not want me to 'throw away' my high-class lifestyle.

He moved closer to me, lowering his head so that he could kiss me briefly. But brief was not good enough for me...as soon as his lips touched mine, I pulled him into me and allowed my hand to explore the area beneath his shirt (once I had untucked it from the waistband of his pants). I felt the kiss all the way down to...to _that_ place. I felt Jesse's hand begin to do some exploring of its own, moving down from my cheek to my neck until I could feel his fingers dance along my collar bone. I pushed myself closer to him, but this only served to stoke the fire that burned inside us both. I felt his hand move lower and lower until it pushed aside the material of my dress. I moaned into the kiss, encouraging him as I dragged my fingernails down his muscular abdomen.

"_Any part of you will do_."

Suddenly shocked, I brought my hand up and then sent it down hard into my assailant's neck.

He stumbled back, letting out a small, startled yell, a hand pressed where my hand had collided with his jugular. That was when I realised what I had done.

"Oh, no," I muttered, rushing over to him, apologising profusely. He grimaced as I checked his injury, which turned out to be superficial. There was a large red mark on his neck, but I am sure that it hurt a lot worse than it looked.

"I am sorry," I apologised once again. "I don't know what came over me."

Jesse attempted to smile, but the pain was obviously too much, so I began to apologise again.

"It is alright," he assured me. "I should not have taken advantage of you like that. Most women would do the same. Although most women do not put as much force behind their assault."

I laughed, soothing the tension between us.

"I am sorry," I repeated. "I just...I heard Paul's voice in my head and for a split-second, I thought that you were- Never mind. I...I had better leave now."

I stood on my toes and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, which he seemed to appreciate.

"Just promise me that you will be here when I get the chance to see you," I laughed.

"There is no place I would rather be, _querida_," he replied, massaging his neck.

The smile that this comment brought to my face lasted all the way back to the mansion. The carriage driver laughed at me, but I did not care. Because Jesse _did_ still love me, as he proved with his pathetic attempt to 'save' me.

Another thing that brought a smile to my face was the frown that Paul wore when I saw him upon arriving at the mansion. I guess that Quinn asked for more money than Paul was willing to give. His expression softened somewhat when he saw me, tough his eyes remained as hard and cold as they always are.

In that instant, one thing happened that caused my newly-revived heart to stop beating once more. Paul's eyes drifted from my own down to my chest and suddenly his expression changed from one of irritation to one of fury. When I looked down, I saw why. On the top of my right breast lay a black smudge. A black smudge no doubt left by the coal on Jesse's roaming hand. When I looked at Paul once more, I saw hatred in his eyes...pure hatred. When he walked past me, he made sure that he bumped into me, bringing himself close enough for me to hear what he whispered.

"I hope you said goodbye to your lover when you left."

**AN - Phew...the last part of that chapter kind of...um...got deleted when it didn't save properly. So excuse the quality, I was in a rush to finish it off :). I just wanted to get the fluff out of the way so that I can get on with the...um...'Paul'. I have been wanting to write an Evil Paul for so long :). I actually wanted Jesse's attempt to break up with Suze sound more pathetic than it did, heh :). **

**As far as progress goes, I am almost half way through now. _Almost_. Though I did not have a chapter number in mind when I started this story, it will be a little bit longer than I intended, thanks to a new idea I got...an idea you are probably going to hate me for, heh. I also cut out a part with the valley people for another idea (which will probably add another chapter or two onto the story) but they will still play a part. This story is really strange to me, because most of it was inspired by music...it is loosely based on an original idea I had which I turned into a Mediator fic. A couple of the songs are gone and my favourite (!) is coming soon. And the reason it is strange is that it is the _music_ that inspired me...not the lyrics, so haha, even if you figure out which songs, you still won't know what I am going to do :). You can probably tell what one of them is from something Suze says in this chapter ;).**

**One last thing (I swear!)...THANK YOU to all of my reviewers...last chapter's response was great! I may not be able to update properly for a week or two (school is starting again), but I will try and go through all of my stories to correct any spelling/grammar mistakes (OTG _especially_ needs a good going through), but keep up with the reviews and I might find a spare lesson or two to work on a new chapter ;). Apologies for mistakes in this chapter, like I said I am trying to sort through everything, so I will get to it eventually :).**

**Keep safe ;)**


	11. The Evil That Men Do

**Cursed**

_"I cannot think well of a man who sports with any woman's feelings; and there may often be a great deal more suffered than a stander-by can judge of."_

_**Jane Austen**_

Paul's words were on my mind all day. I could not concentrate on anything else, not even the book I attempted to read. For once, I was not the one to suffer directly from one of his threats. Surely he would not do anything to Jesse. After all, what had Jesse done besides fall in love with me? You can't punish someone for falling in love.

The kitchen was empty, and my shallow breathing echoed around the stone room. This is where the servants eat as well as prepare our food. It was lonely and cold, despite the fire roaring in an alcove on the far wall. It was late, I knew that much. The sun had set hours ago. I contemplated sneaking out to see Jesse, to tell him of Paul's threat. But what would it acheive?

I had never felt so helpless as I did right then. I needed reassurance. I needed someone, anyone, to tell me that everything would turn out fine.

I pushed myself up from the uncomfortable wooden chair and walked back into the main part of the kitchen. I jumped slightly when i saw a small figure sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. I had not heard him enter. I could not see his face, but the mop of bright red hair that sat atop his head was enough to confirm his identity.

"David," I spoke, my voice soft so as not to startle him. His head jerked upright and I could see a wooden cup in his hands. When he saw me, his expression softened.

"Suze," he breathed, obviously shocked by my sudden appearance. "What are you doing here? Should you not be asleep?"

I laughed and sat on the floor next to him. I could see water inside the cup, telling me that he had snuck down from his room for a midnight snack.

"I tried," I told him. "But I could not. I have too many things on my mind."

"Do you want to talk?" he asked. "Talking can help. You really should get some sleep. You have not been looking well for a while now. Ever since Erroll Quinn arrived, actually."

I smiled. For a twelve-year-old, he is quite mature. More mature than his older brother, Brad, at least.

"For what I have to say," I whispered, "I cannot talk. Not to you, not to anyone. Not if I want to live."

One of his small hands reached out and gripped my own, squeezing it in a slightly reassuring manner.

"You know that anything you tell me will be for my ears only," he said. "I will not tell anyone if you do not wish me to."

We sat in silence for a few minutes as I thought about telling him. How would he react to hearing about Jesse? True, he had met him at the dance, but he thought that he was a rich Spanish rancher, not a poor blacksmith's assistant. He was too young to understand what I was feeling; the agony of being in love.

"Do you remember Hector?" I asked, using the name that Jesse had introduced himself with.

David nodded, gulping down some water as he waited patiently for me to continue.

"You love him, don't you?" he asked when I was silent for too long. I nodded in reply. "Then why don't you marry him? At least then Paul will leave you alone."

"It isn't as simple as that," I explained. "I want to marry him, I really do...but I can't. Not now, not ever."

David sighed as if I was being difficult, which I was not.

"Jack told me that Paul is up to something," he said. "Jack hates Paul, you know that, don't you? He likes you because you treated him like a person, not a burden or an obstacle. He hates Paul even more for what he puts you through. If you marry Hector, Paul will be forced to leave you alone. By law."

"David, I can't marry Hector!" I half-shouted. "I can't marry him because he is not rich."

David looked stunned. His red hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head violently.

"No, he is a rancher, he is rich! And of a high class!"

"He is not," I repeated. I could feel tears in my eyes, but I did not want to cry in front of David. "He ran away from that life when he was forced into an arranged marriage. He accidentally killed the man his fiancee sent to kill him, so he fled to this country for a new start. He works as Henry's assistant...Henry the blacksmith."

I lost control over my emotion and the tears started to flow freely. I felt David's hand on my back, but it felt uncertain.

"Suze," he whispered. "That can't be...oh, no. How do you get yourself into these situations?"

This just caused the tears to come harder and faster.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Paul only hired Quinn to scare me...and now innocent people are dying because of it. And he...I think that he is going to do something to Jesse."

"Do you want my advice?" David asked, though it was a rhetorical question. "Run away. I know that it is not the best answer, but it is your only choice. Either run away together or send Hec-Jesse away."

I laughed at his innocence. He believed that running away would solve all of my problems. I believed that, too, when I was his age. But if I ran away, they would only search for me. They would comb the globe if that is what it took to find me. I would never truly be free of them.

"No offence David," I said, standing up. "But I prefer to solve my problems, not run from them. If anyone asks, I am sleeping and do not wish to be disturbed."

I brushed invisible dirt from my skirt before exiting the kitchen and slipping out of the mansion, hoping that nobody was out of bed this late.

I know that I promised Jesse that I would not visit him at night if the risk was too high, but I needed to see him. I needed to warn him, after Paul's cryptic threat. There were no carriages available this late, so I saddled one of the horses (a task I have become skilled at since meeting Jesse) and rode into the village myself.

The streets wee empty, making it easy for me to ride around unseen. Even the witchfinders were absent tonight. They were rarely seen in the village lately, on account of Quinn's belief that witches work in woodland. I have never rode on my own this late at night, and I never wanted to again. I am sure that the unpleasant chill was not due to the breeze.

I reached Jesse's house in almost no time at all and knocked on the door lightly. I ran my fingers through my hair and adjusted my dress, suddenly concerned about my image. I knocked again after a few minutes when the door did not open.

After the fourth knock, I began to worry. Jesse _always_ rushes to the door when he knows that it will be me.

Assuming that he must be sleeping, I snuck around the side of the house and climbed through one of the windows. This was difficult and I ripped my skirt when it caught on a nail protruding from the window pane, but I eventually got through. His house seemed to be in perfect condition. The bookself in the corner was filled with books, as usual, and the books that would not fit onto the shelves were piled on a small wooden table next to them. I made my way to the bedroom, the cold stone floor icy against my bare feet.

"Jesse?"

There was no answer. Maybe he was a deep sleeper.

But when I reached his bed, I found that it was empty. Jesse wasn't here.

I did not think much of this, though I do not know why. I guess that I was in denial. Nothing could have happened to him, could it? Paul could not have acted so quickly.

I sighed and sat on the edge of his small bed. The covers were straight and undisturbed, so he had obviously not been sleeping in it. I ran a hand over the rough material of his blankets to find that they were cool to the touch. He had most definitely not lain here tonight.

My lack of sleep caught up with me and I stifled a small yawn. Jesse could return any minute, I could not afford to return home to sleep. Instead, I curled up on Jesse's sheets and buried my face into his pillows. I could smell him on them. I could smell his intoxicating, indescribable scent and I breathed deeply, inhaling as much of it as I could. It comforted me like nothing else could. I could imagine him lying beside me, an arm draped across me, holding me close to him.

I lay there for a few minutes before I felt the atmosphere change. I was suddenly aware of a presence by the side of the bed, but I did not open my eyes. It was not Jesse, I knew that much. Jesse was not dead.

"Susannah," Marianne spoke, her voice soft and cautious. I could detect something in her voice, something she was trying to hide, but I could not think of what it was.

"Susannah," she repeated when I did not reply. "I know that you are awake. There has...something has happened. Jesse won't be coming home tonight."

I allowed my eyes to open slowly, the light from Marianne's glow hurting my eyes. I raised a hand to shield my eyes and pushed myself upright.

"What do you mean?" I asked, still unable to recognise the emotion in her voice.

She sat beside me and ran a hand through her long hair, shaking with every pointless breath she took. She seemed unable to speak.

"I...I decided to watch over Jesse after Paul's threat, and..." She paused to breathe, though she did not need to. "He was arrested a few hours ago for the murder of the witchfinders you both killed."

Her words cut me deep. Unable to move, I felt phantom tears welling up in my eyes. I have cried so much lately that I guess I can't cry anymore.

I felt Marianne's arm come around me, but I did not react. I did not need any pity; I had no one to blame but myself.

I stood up, passing through Marianne out of carelessness and stumbled towards the window I had used to enter the house, my dress snagging again on the same nail. I was barely aware of my surroundings as I climbed back onto my horse and took off towards the jail.

Midnight was obviously long gone, as the icy wind that swirled around me indicated. The wind tugged at my clothes, ripping my shawl from my shoulders and dragging it into the night. The saddle bit into my thighs and he reigns were beginning to restrict the bloow flow to my hands, but I continued to ride, the wind finally causing my eyes to flood with tears.

When I arrived at the jail, I shooed the horse around the side of the building so that I could easily sneak inside.

The jail is a very small building which contained a simple table and a passageway to the underground cells. There were only three cells as their inhabitants were often executed shortly after their arrest. Since the witch trials began, there have been almost no crimes worthy of imprisonment or execution. This was one of the reasons why the gallows were brought down and replaced with the platform upon which many women had burned to death. Our governer turned his back on hangings and decided that burning was the only way to cleanse these 'witches' of their sins.

"The jailor is never present after dark."

My body jerked violently from the shock and I spun around to chastise Marianne for scaring me.

She smiled sweetly and gestured towards the half-open door to the jail. I did not hesitate and ran inside, hoping and praying that nobody saw me.

As soon as I stepped inside, a vile damp, musky smell invaded my senses. I clasped a hand to my nose and mouth to block out the smell and ventured down to the cells. It is strange how the closer I got to the cells, the more pleasant the smell became. It was almost bearable. I guess that the guards sweat more than the prisoners.

As I reached the last step a fat, black rat scurried across my feet. I let out a little squeal and backed into one of the damp, grime-covered stone walls. The rat simply ignored me and scurried through a crevice in the stone, it's thick tail swaying carelessly behind it.

I tore my eyes away from the hole it had disappeared into and turned towards the cells, lowering my hand from my face.

Only one of the cells was inhabited and its occupant sat upright with his back to the wall, his head buried in his hands. When my eyes fell upon him, I rushed towards his cell, my heels clacking loudly on the stone ground.

"Jesse!" I exclaimed, falling to my knees in front of his cell, gripping the bars with my dirt-encrusted hands for support. As soon as I spoke, his head jerked upright and I could see that he had been crying. This disturbed me; I have never known a man to cry before. Not openly.

"_Querida_!" He gasped and threw himself towards me, his fingers wrapping around mine tightly. I would have complained about the pain he was causing me but right now all I wanted was to be near him. By pressing our foreheads between bars, we were able to draw close enough together for our lips to meet. It was a brief kiss, but it was amazing nonetheless.

"I feared the worst when they took me in," he breathed, our foreheads still touching. "I thought that they would have arrested you, too. Being a woman, they would...I dare not think about what they would do to you."

I sniffled, though my tears had dried up.

"It was Paul," I informed him. "I should have warned you as soon as he approached me. I am sorry."

I closed my eyes again, willing the tears to come so that I had some release from this pain, but they did not. I sighed when I felt the hand that Jesse had slipped between the bars gently stroke my cheek.

"Susannah, this is not your fault," he assured me. "They...they are building new gallows and I am to be executed when construction is complete...they say three days. They charged me with murder and they won't even allow me to have a trial."

"Slater," I snarled. Only the governer's family had the power to refuse a trial. This knowledge caused a fresh wave of hatred to wash over me but instead of ignoring it like I usually did, I allowed it to consume me. Paul would pay for what he has done. I will make sure of that.

"It won't come to that," I told Jesse. "I will get you out of here if I have to break you out. I promise."

I hated eveything at that moment; the witchfinders for chasing me, the bars for separating us, Paul for turning Jesse in... But most of all, I blamed myself. I should not have allowed it to come to this.

I remained with Jesse until dawn and left for Andy's mansion as the sun rose, leaving him wit hthe promise that I would sort everything out. But how was I to do that? Paul wanted him dead, and when Paul Slater wanted something, he got it. I am the only exception to that.

-+-

The mood in the manison remained the same as always, though everything seemed much darker to me now. I blamed it on the hatred that I could still feel consuming me. I held on to it, tighter than I held on to my own life, hoping that when the time came, I could give Paul all that he deserved.

As I hurtled down the staircase in my new, clean dress, I could hear the servants busying themselves with breakfast. I checked my reflection in the rusted suit of armor that once belonged to Andy's father as I passed and smoothed my hair down, hoping that nobody would notice the small specks of dirt that clung to it.

"Suze!" A voice called from behind me. I coughed and straightened my dress before turning to face my step-father.

"Suze, what on earth are you wearing on your feet?" he asked, looking at my shoes in disgust. My eyes dropped and I gasped when I realised that I was wearing the same shoes that I had worn last night. They were almost brown, though they should have been light green and the tiniest paw-print was visible on the toe of my right shoe. I swallowed hard and searched desperately for a reasonable excuse.

"Oh, I was planning on taking a walk in the gardens," I lied. "I do not wish to scuff my new shoes."

Andy eyed me suspiciously before nodding. He shook his head at me then walked off towards the dining room, pausing to make sure that I _was _going into the gardens. So I had no choice but to duck through the door and into the elaborate gardens that connected our mansion wit the governer's.

The courtyard that I walked out onto was made entirely out of stone, even the pillars that supported the upper floors of the house.

When my mother and I first moved here, I used to love sitting out in the gardens for hours. I would read and sometimes just sit and listen to the gossip of the gardeners. That was until I became acquainted with Paul. Every time i would sneak out in to the gardens for a bit of peace and quiet, he would appear, seemingly out of nowhere. Sometimes he would not even speak, he would just sit on the bench opposite and stare at me until I became so unnerved that I had to return to the house.

When I stepped out into the misty gardens, I was counting on him being there. Both of our families would be occupied with breakfast and the morning chores, so nobody could interrupt us. I did not want anyone to witness what I would do to him. I myslelf did not know what I had planned, but I could tell that it would not be pretty by the way that my fingernails involuntarily dug into the palms of my hands when I saw him strolling casually past the fountain.

I wasted no time and marched up to him, my fingernails breaking the skin and drawing the tiniest amout of blood.

"Why, hello, Susannah," Paul sang, grinning cheerfully. He continued to grin even as my bony knuckles collided with his near-perfect features, causing his head to turn ninety degrees.

"You bastard," I spat, embracing the hatred that flared with a vengeance inside of me. "This is not a game! He is a human being, a person. And now he is sentenced to _death_ because of you!"

Instead of trying to calm me down, as I expected him to do, he smiled back at me, wiping the blood from the small gash in his lip that my fist had left.

"I warned you, Susie," he told me, his voice becoming intimidating and his expression hardening. "I told you not to mess with me, but you did. And now another person will pay for your mistake."

He said all the right words, and I felt my hatred evaporating, the hurt bubbling to the surface. I tried desperately to cling on to some of the anger, the tiniest trace of fury, but it was futile. I broke down infront of him, and he showed no pity. He did not attempt to comfort me and when he drew closer to me, his hand gripping my arm loosely, it was cold. His lips drew closer to my ear and I could feel his warm breath on my skin.

"But I could get my father to grant him clemency," he whispered, his fingers moving against my arm, bringing a new emotion to the whirlwind that was raging inside of me...fear. "All I ask for is one night..."

His lips moved back, grazing the skin beside my earlobe. I shook involuntarily and pulled away from him.

"If you think that I-" I started, but Paul interrupted me with a laugh before turning to walk away.

"Would you rather that Jesse die?" he asked, smiling that conniving, all-knowing smile that everyone has begun to associate with him. Because he knew that he had me. He was forcing me to choose between two things that he knew would tear me apart. Either I stand back and let Jesse die or I lose my virginity to the one person I loathed.

I fell to my knees as he walked away, not caring that the woman he supposedly loved (though I did not believe that to be true) was falling to pieces because of his actions.

I clenched my fists once more, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. The pain felt so good right then; it reassured me that I was alive and not in some sort of hell. I breathed in and out slowly in an attempt to calm myself down. I could not afford to lose my mind right now. Jesse needed me.

I took one deep breath and rose to my feet.

There had to be another way out of this...there just had to.

**AN - It is a few minutes to midnight and unfortunately I have school in the morning, so I don't have time to check for mistakes, so I apologise for any :).**

**I have a confession to make...my addiction to reviews has got worse...so please review :). We are half way through now! Almost...unless I get a new idea...which is likely...**

**Disclaimer - All characters, etc. related to the Mediator belong to Meg Cabot.**


	12. Pacta Sunt Servanda

**Cursed**

**WARNING! This chapter contains M material. I have put a page break at the start and end of the section so you can skip it if you are sensitive to that kind of stuff...and a JFCer...seriously, you won't want to read it. Apologies to JFCers...I'm still feeling the Jesseness, but this was essential...almost :S.**

_**Chapter Ten -** Pacta Sunt Servanda_

_"Barely cold in her grave, barely warm in my bed. Settling for a draw tonight...Puppet girl, your strings are mine." -** Nightwish - Feel For You**_

_I was not in our family mansion, nor was I anywhere familiar. It was a beach, a beach with white sand and crystalline water that gently pushed the sand into shallow trenches along the shoreline. I could smell salt water. Saltwater, seaweed and the slightest hint of fish. Somehow the smell did not repulse me, in fact I found it to be quite comforting._

_I did not reconise the dress that I wore; it was silk and barely covered my skin. It was merely a length of material that stretched from my neck to my ankles, dipping slightly at my neck and held together at my shoulders by two circles of exquisite string. I wore no undergarments on the top half of my body and I could feel the ocean breeze against my skin, hundreds of goosebumps raising on my skin._

_I suddenly froze when I felt two warm hands on my arms. They gently rubbed my skin, chasing the chill away. But that was not all that they did. As soon as those hands touched my skin, I involuntarily sighed, wanting the hands to do so much more than warm my frozen skin._

_"Querida," his deep voice whispered, sending little shivers down my spine. I stepped backwards into him and revelled in the feel of his strong body against mine._

_"I missed you," I whispered. It was true. Somehow I became at ease when he approached me. I turned towards him and observed his perfectly-chisled features. It is no wonder why I fell in love with him. He is the most gentle, caring soul that I have ever met and is no slouch in the looks department. The sea breeze gently tugged at his short brown hair, giving him that adorable windswept look. The scar in his eyebrow seemed more prominent and his chocolate eyes seemed darker and deeper._

_His thin lips twisted into a smile, a smile that I knew was only for me. He raised one of his large hands and pushed my hair out of my eyes, enabling him to gaze into my eyes, causing me to melt infront of him._

_I dove for his lips and he welcomed them with his own, pouring an overwhelming amount of love into the kiss. I could feel his calloused hands exploring my back through the thin silk of my dress, which began to feel unnaturally rough against my suddenly sensitive skin._

_"Querida," he gasped, attempting to pull away from me, though I would not allow him to._

_I felt him tense slightly in my arms before groaning intensely and giving in, pressing himself against me. I felt an overwhelming sensation building within me and no matter how hard I tried, I would not go away. Nothing worked; pressing myself against him only caused the pleasure to grow and my lips would not break their contact with his, despite my efforts._

_We slowly sank to the ground, our lips not once disconnecting, and lay lay over me, bracing himself so as not to crush me beneath his weight. The heat pouring from him chased away the chill and I found myself pulling him further down so that I could feel his hard chest pressed against mine._

_"Te amo, querida," he gasped, apparantly finding it difficult to breathe. "Te amo."_

_His lips vanished from my own but he did not stop kissing me. I groaned as his lips moved against my neck, causing my legs to involuntarily seperate and bring themselves around his sides so that he could press further into me. His lips continued to move south, leaving an interesting trail of unknown sensations on my skin. When his lips passed my collar bone by body instincively jerked upwards. Even in the heat of the moment, I am still a lady and this did not seem proper. But when his arms slipped behind my arched back and gently pressed me into him, I gave in. It felt so wrong yet so right._

_One of his hands came up and began to gently caress the area around one of the straps on my dress. Then, slowly and agonisingly pleasurably, he eased the strap down so that he could kiss the place that it had covered. The material of my dress was pulled aside as the strap was removed, exposing one of my breasts. I wanted to complain, but my body would not let me. Instead of screaming "what do you think you are doing?", I found myself moaning and running my fingers through Jesse's hair._

_His lips did not give up their quest and they moved slowly towards the area that had previously been covered by the thin silk on my dress. I curled my hands into fists, desperate to grip something, but all that surrounded us was sand which slipped through my fingers as easily as water would. Jesse's lips continued to carress my skin but they were no longer gentle. They were not rough, but they kissed me with a need so strong that it was infectious. It felt as though he knew that this would be the last time that he would see me. His lips were now joined by his tongue, which flitted over the peak, causing my whole body to go haywire. I found myself raking my fingers down his back and moaning his name quite loudly._

_His mouth removed itself from my breast and came up to kiss me on the lips once more. He kissed me so urgently that I had to pull back for fear of losing my mind completely. When I caught sight of him, I felt something jolt through me. I pulled my strap back onto my shoudler and covered my exposed flesh before placing a hand on either side of his face._

_"Jesse, what is happening?" I asked. His skin seemed to be a different colour, it appeared to be glowing slightly. The scar in his eyebrow was more noticable than normal._

_"Promise me one thing, querida," he spoke, rushing to get his words out._

_"Anything for you."_

_"Don't mourn for me...please," he whispered, drawing my face close to his and allowing his lips to brush against mine as he spoke. "Don't hurt."_

_He kissed me one last time, deeply and passionately. When he pulled away, I saw that he was fading. I screamed "no!" and attempted to grab him but he vanished before my eyes, leaving me alone on the beach._

_He was gone._

As I woke up, I reached out and grabbed ahold of something. It felt cold and hard, though something soft cushioned it.

"Are you alright?" Marianne asked nervously. I blinked deleriously and released her bony shoulders. "You were...um...moaning in your sleep. I was considering waking you up, but it did not sound like pained moaning."

I blushed furiously and check that my nightdress was covering everything. Why had I allowed Jesse to do those things to me? Even in a dream. It was not...proper. Yet as I recalled the details, I was filled with an emotion that I cannot describe. I could feel everything that I had fel tin the dream as I recalled how good his hard body felt, pressing me into the sand.

That was when I remembered his situation...and Paul's offer.

I suddenly buried my face in my hands in despair as Marianne moved closer to me.

"Susannah, what is it?" she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

I don't know why I told her the truth. I always keep secrets from those close to me, it is my own form of self-protection. But I still found myself spilling everything, from Paul's threat to actually considering going through with it. What did it matter if he took my virginity? At least Jesse would be safe, right? Though it meant going against everything that I believe in and giving in to the one person I hate with a passion. But it would mean that Paul had won. And who was to say that he actually _would _free Jesse? And what if he got me pregnant? I would rather kill myself than have his child.

Marianne placed a comforting arm around me. I could tell by the way that my dressing table was shaking that she was furious.

"He has no right to ask you to-" she started. "Paul Slater is a foul, loathesome beast. He will get what he deserves."

I laughed at this.

"Marianne, I have been waiting two years for him to get what he deserves," I replied. "Maybe he deserves me. I don't know how or why...that man does not deserve the company of _any_ woman, not even a whore. Which is what I will become if I satisfy his sick fantasy. Only my payment will be Jesse's life."

"Free him," Marianne suggested. "Free him from the jail. I could do it now."

I hung my head in sorrow.

"He woudl not make it out of the city. Not with the number of guards and witchfinders now patrolling the area. And if he were to escape and then be caught, he would be accused of witchcraft and subjected to the trials."

Marianne did not reply. What could she say?

I left my bedroom as soon as I had dressed and ventured out into the stables. Jake was in the process of feeding the horses so I was able to help him which, in turn, helped me take my mind off my current situation. Jake noticed that something was on my mind. I guess that it was obvious; usually I am chatty with my step-brothers (Brad excluded) but today I was quiet and withdrawn.

"Something is bothering you, I know it," he said, taking the empty food bucket from my hands. "Is it to do with that man I saw you dancing with at the ball?"

"It is to do with him, but not because of him," I replied. I did not want Jake to think that Jesse was mistreating me in any way. I loved Jesse and eventually I would find a way for us to be together and when that day comes, I want my family to accept him.

"If they are pressuring you to marry him, don't give in," he told me, smiling secretively. I did not know who he meant by 'they'. "I am not married yet I am happy. I have no-one to hold me down."

He dropped the empty wooden bucket onto the floor before looking around furtively. Then, he moved closer to me and lowered his voice.

"I have not told anyone, but I plan to travel," he whispered. "I am planning to leave tonight, after dark. I have a friend who is picking me up at the dock. With no woman to hold me back, I can do anything. I plan to just ride. I feel free when I ride. Our parents won't be too happy with my decision, but it has been my dream for a while now. I have friends in Spain who I plan to stay with for the first few nights."

I looked at him in disbelief. He can't be serious? Jake was always the loyal brother, the one to do as he was told. He was the last person that I expected to just leave without saying a word. But I was also happy for him. He was following his dream.

I felt so much adoration for him at that point that I actually hugged him. He seemed surprised but returned the sentiment nonetheless.

"I am happy for you," I told him. "At least one of us gets to live our dream."

He laughed slightly before pulling away.

"If thinks are bad for you, you could always join me," he offered. "You could stay with my friends until everything blows over."

"Thank you for your kind offer, but my problems are not going to be resolved by running away," I laughed. "But I will miss you. And so will David. You know how much he despises Brad."

We laughed together for a while, joking about family and friends and everything that Jake would miss when he left. For once, I felt normal. I had no worries while I laughed. Though Jesse was still on my mind, I found it hard to think about Paul.

I did not even see Paul until that afternoon. I was walking in the gardens again, the scent of the flowers almost overpowering me, when he stepped out from behind a large oak tree.

"Have you considered my offer?" he asked, his icy blue eyes flashing malevolently. I groaned in frustration and turned away, but one of his hands shot out and prevented me from walking away.

"I will give you until sundown to make your mind up," he whispered, his breath feeling cold against my cheek.

Feeling violated, I pushed him away from me.

"You are despicable!" I snarled. He simply laughed at my outburst, which I did not appreciate.

I wanted to say more, but there were no words powerful enough to describe how much I hated him. He reinforced this hatred by undressing me with his eyes and even had the audacity to lick his lips slightly, as if I were a prime cut of meat ready to be devoured. It made me sick.

I fled the gardens, unable to take much more, and ran into the parlour. I could feel rage building up inside of me and I desperately needed to hit something. I settled for a tapestry, allowing it's rough weave to cushion the impact as my fist slammed into the wall. The pain was a release and I only wished that my fist had been sinking into Paul's face rather than the sewn image of a donkey.

I slumped down onto the floor of the parlour, rubbing my aching fist. The skin on my knuckles had turned blotchy, the red standing out against my pale skin. I have not left the house in the daytime for a while now so my tan was fading somewhat.

I breathed deeply in an attempt to soothe my rage and tried to think of a way out of this. The part of me that was actually considering sleeping with Paul seemed more prominent at the moment simply because I could think of no other way to save Jesse's life. However, I could not get the image of Paul licking his lips out of my head. I could also not forget my dream. In my dream, I _wanted_ Jesse to do those things to me (or at least part of me did). While the thought of Paul touching and kissing me in the same way may once have appealed to me, now it just repulses me. I did not want to think about him groaning in pleasure over me as I cried in despair beneath him.

But it would not matter as long as Jesse survived. Wouldn't it?

I do not know how long I sat there, only that my whole body froze when I saw the sun sinking behind the trees. It was sundown.

I pulled myself to my feet, shaking slightly. Maybe I would be able to reason with him if we were given the time to talk.

As the servants milled around us, finishing their chores so that they were able to sleep, I slipped out into the gardens. Darkness was falling at a rapid pace. The flowers had lost their colour and the birds in the trees were no longer chirping. It seemed strange, almost ominous.

I slealthily crept through the bushes, the sharp branches scratching my shins as I went. I was careful not to tear my dress, so I hiked it up as I stepped ove rthe plants, not really caring if my shoes were soiled. I ruin shoes all of the time.

As I approached the back door of the governer's mansion my fear caught up with me. My hand rested loosely on the cold brass handle, the rest of my body trembling with built-up fear. What if he wouldn't listen to me? Would he force me to carry out his request anyway?

My hand slipped silently off the door handle.

What was I doing? Jesse wouldn't want me to give myself to Paul. It would tear him apart to know that I gave away something so precious to someone so foul just to protect him.

Jesse...

I could see his face, those dark eyes observing me with great interest. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but he was not here. He was locked up in some filthy dungeon, probably being starved half to death. And it was all my fault.

I reached out once more and grasped the handle, pulling the door open. I wasn't doing this for me, I was doing this for Jesse. He didn't deserve to die simply because I had underestimated Paul.

The inside of the governer's mansion differed greatly to that of Andy's. The colours were darker and almost everything was covered with velvet; the divans, the chairs, even the windows. The architecture was beautiful; a gothic style with Italian influences. The most elaborate ornaments that you could ever hope to see were neatly lined up on every available surface. A large chandelier hung low on the ceiling, the candles unlit yet still half spent.

I crept across the floor, hoping that the floorboards did not creak beneath my weight and alert the Slaters.

I knew where Paul's bedroom was thanks to the 'shifter lessons' that he forced me to go to a while ago. I could not hear voices as I climbed the many stairs to where his bedroom was situated, so I assumed that his parents were out of the house. My heart sank for I knew that I now had no excuse to turn him down tonight and buy myself some time if the talking did not work.

I did not knock on his door; I was through being polite where he was concerned. His room always was strange. It was not decorated as elaboratly as most bedrooms are, in fact it was almost bare save for a short (waist height) armoire by the door upon which stood two metal candle holders and a hairbrush.

The sheets on his large bed were plain grey, as they have always been. It is strange because rich folk usually buy only heavily embroidered bed sheets and blankets which suffocate you in the summer. But Paul was not a normal boy, I knew that more than others did.

He was waiting for me. He sat on the side of his bed as though he knew that I would come. He smiled pervertedly when I entered the room and it made me shiver unpleasantly. I hated the way that he observed me as though I were his to claim in any way that he wanted. It made me sick to my stomach.

"I knew that you would come," he spoke, a little too confident for my liking.

"I just want to talk," I told him, intent on letting him know that he wasn't going to win. However, he stood up and approached me, his eyes wandering to inappropriate places on my body as he walked.

"That wasn't our deal, Susie," he pointed out, his voice losing none of its confidence. "Unless you want to talk while we-"

"Just stop!" I screamed before he could finish his sentence. He smirked, obviously having received the desired response from me. "Just let him go! Let him go now and show me that you are a decent guy underneath all of your conniving ways. Give me that one reason to genuinely like you and let Jesse go. You aren't a murderer, Paul."

For a moment, I thought that I saw a flicker of something in his eyes...conflict, maybe. However, a flicker was all it was and when I looked back into his eyes, I could see nothing but evil...and lust. Pure, carnal lust.

"I'm not a decent guy, Susie," he told me, his voice suddenly harder than it was before. "So either you do what I asked you to or you get out of here and say goodbye to your boyfriend. I hear the construction of the gallows is almost complete."

I resisted the urge to spit in his face and instead pushed my fingers into my hair and turned away from him. I held in a frustrated scream as my fingernails dug into my scalp.

"Paul, please," I begged, hoping that at least_ part_ of him was good and realised that what he wanted me to do was wrong in so many ways.

"Sorry, Susie," He told me, though I could tell that he was lying by the smile that I could hear in his voice. "Now make up your mind before I rescind my offer. You have five seconds...four..."

My head was racing with thoughts and no matter how hard I tried, I could not organise them and find a way out of this.

"Please, Paul, don't do this!" I begged, almost crying by now. Paul simple smiled at me and continued to count.

"Three..."

Could I break Jesse out? Would he make it out of the town in time?

I was torn between my love for Jesse and respect for life, and my knowledge of what was right and my self-respect.

I couldn't just let Jesse die...

"Two..."

"Alright!" I yelled, my voice shaking so much that my next words were no more than a whisper. "I'll do it."

I could almost sense the triumph as Paul clapped his hands with glee. I felt like throwing up, but somehow nothing could pass the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat. My whole body was tingling as he approached me, running a finger seductively down my arm. With great reluctance, I turned to face him.

"Kiss me, Suze," he ordered. "Prove that you are willing to do this."

I looked at him in disgust. But I knew that he would be forcing me to do a lot more than just kiss me soon, so I gave in. I allowed his lips to press against mine and I allowed him to thrust his tongue into my mouth (that is the only way to explain it). My lips feebly moved against his as his assault on me began. After a few minutes of groping and sucking my lips off of my face, he broke away and looked at me in disappointment.

"Make it convincing, Suze, or I won't go through with my side of the bargain," he instructed. I could do nothing but obey. He held a lot of power over me right now and I knew that he enjoyed this, the sick, twisted boy that he is.

Before I kissed him again, I saw a glow in one corner of the room and Marianne glared at me, her eyes begging me not to go through with this. I ignored her and a few seconds later, she had dematerialised. I did not doubt that she had went to inform Jesse of my actions, but that was a problem for another time. Right now I had to concentrate on ensuring Jesse's survival.

There was no denying that Paul was a good kisser, because he was. But he lacked that certain something that Jesse had. Jesse's lips were soft and gentle, giving me just enough ease my pain yet leaving me wanting more. Paul's on the other hand were hard and rough, taking as much fromme as he could and giving nothing in return. Jesse's lips adored me whereas Paul's claimed me.

To fight the overwhelming urge to shove Paul away, I imagined that he was Jesse. I imagined that the hands that gripped my hips so tightly belonged to the man I loved. By doing this, I was able to kiss him back without any effort. But my lips still began to hurt from the pressure he was applying, so I had to push him away eventually.

* * *

"Can we just get this over with, please?" I asked, unable to look him in the eye. He laughed and told me that it was no problem before shoving me towards the bed and pulling my arms out of the long, flared sleeves of my dress. As he pushed me down onto the bed, he climbed over me and pulled the fabric of my dress down over my waspie corset, exposing my breasts. 

He paused for a moment, his eyes glued to my exposed chest and whistled loudly.

"Jesse doesn't know what he is missing, does he?" he laughed, causing me to squirm in protest beneath him. A quick reminder of what would happen if I decided not to go through with this was all that it took for me to calm down and allow Paul's hands to continue their exploration.

They ran over every part of my body, pressing the skin so hard that I feared it would bruise. His grip on my breasts was like a vice and he kissed me on the lips to prevent me from crying out in pain, be it physical or emotional. I suddenly remembered the dream, and I knew that Jesse's skin had felt so different against mine. His was rough, his hands calloused, yet it felt pleasurable to be caressed so intimately by him. When Paul touched me, I could not pretend that it was Jesse.

His lips began to wander, just as Jesse's had in my dream. He sucked my skin painfully, no doubt leaving a mark on my neck. His lips felt nothing like Jesse's, not even as they caressed my breast. I admit that I did feel some pleasure as his tongue drifted over my hardened nipple, but I am sure that it had nothing to do with my feelings for him.

I began to wonder why he was even trying to pleasure me. This was all for his benefit, not mine. He obviuosly got some sick, twisted pleasure from hearing me groan in protest beneath him. He continued to suck my senstitive skin, nibbling me slightly (which caused me to moan even more) while his hand pushed up the loose skirt of my dress so that my underwear was in clear view.

He sat upright and began to undress himself hastily as though he couldn't wait to get inside of me. Which was probably the case...

I couldn't help but notice that Paul had a chest that was almost as well-defined as Jesse's. It disturbed me when I felt something strange whilst observing his near-perfect form. If he wasn't so despicable, I probably would have married him long ago. When he removed his trousers, I could see that he was ready through the thin cotton undergarments that he wore. He smiled deviously before leaning back over me and kissing me heavily, pressing up against my entrance. Though we still wore our undergrarments, this terrified me and I could feel tears building up in my eyes. I can not recall ever being this scared, not even when my life was in danger.

He must have sensed that I was haing second thoughts by my unresponsiveness, so he pulled back a bit and took my hand in his.

"It will hurt a lot less if you relax," he groaned, nuzzling my breast and bringing my hand between his legs. The tears finally broke free as he wrapped my hand around him and he began moaning into my skin. He moved my hand up and down, obviously deriving great pleasure from this small action. I could feel him throbbing in my hand, hard as a rock yet soft as the velvet that decorated his house.

Eventually he released my hand and began to tug my underwear down. That was when he realised that I was crying. And by now, I was sobbing so hard that my tears had soaked through the thick material of his pillow case.

"Aw, Suze," he complained, obviously turned off by my tears.

While he backed off, I pulled my underwear back up and covered myself by pulling the sleeves of my dress back onto my arms.

* * *

"Suze, stop crying," he ordered. "I can't do this if you are crying!" 

I laughed incredulously. He was forcing me to have sex with him, yet he didn't want me to cry? This just proved that he did not care about me at all...all that he wanted was my body. He didn't care if it destroyed me as long as I didn't show my feelings during the act.

I told him what was on my mind and he just laughed. He jumped down off the bed, all body parts returned to normal and turned to face the window, his back to me.

"Suze, just stop crying like a little girl and get back into bed," he instructed.

And I snapped.

They say that a person can only take so much torment and abuse before something inside of them snaps and they choose to retaliate. My trigger was the 'little girl' comment. I had cried so much lately because of him that my well of emotions was dried up. I have been so weak since his return, crying when I should have been strong, but now I had no more tears to shed and a hell of a lot of pent-up anger and stress.

It was time to show him just what this 'little girl' was capable of.

I wrapped my fingers around the cold steel of one of his candle holders and brought it down my my side. I noticed that several objects around the room were shaking slightly, no doubt because of my intense fury. I approached Paul with the candlestick in my hand, occasionally sniffling so that he would think that I was still crying. Then as soon as I got close enough to him, I lifted the hand that was holding the candlestick holder.

He realised that something was wrong and turned around just as swung. I will never forget the look of pure horror in his eyes as I brought the candlestick down onto his skull with all of my might.

I stood there for a while, candlestick still in hand, looking down at his unmoving form, smiling as blood trickled out of a wound in his head. When I finally came to my senses, I dropped the candlestick and fled the Slater's residence.

If Paul was still alive, it would be hours before he woke up.

I just hoped that that was enough time to get Jesse out of here.

**AN - I said that I was sorry before, and I will say it again...sorry:( There probably aren't many PFCers reading this, so... But they probably wouldn't have liked it either, haha. Apologies for making Paul seem so...sleazy. I read ot back and cringed.**

**But you didn't think that she would actually go through with it, did you:D**

**This is a busy term for me so I apologise if updates are a bit slower than usual, but fear not, I am still with you. :)**

**Review please :). Death threats welcome from JFCers. ;)**

**Now...my review replies (because I have been busy and haven't had time to reply individually)...**

**_smile4me - _Do you still love Paul now? lol Was this the kind of 'action' you were looking for:S Thanks for the review :)**

**_Emmohdee - _I'm afraid that you will have to wait until next chapter to find out how (and _if_) she busts him out :). i know he's going to be plenty mad when he sees her. Thanks for the review :)**

**_Purple Rhapsody - _We all make the wrong decisions, lol. It's just pure chance that that's what Suze realised that sleeping with Paul was...the _wrong_ decision. I had to whack him over the head with the candlestick because of what he did. And to ease my guilt of almost writing a P/S lemon (I never intended it to be one but you have no idea how close I came to writing one there...I got a bit carried away...I'm saving my energy for a J/S one). Thanks for the review :)**

**_Bridget - _Well, Paul has put her in a position that no girl should have to be in. Plus, I needed to make her seem weak so that she could snp like she did in this chapter ;). Thanks for the review :)**

**_laura - _It must have been a lucky chapter, lol. I am notorious for making stupid mistake, even when I check stuff through. :S Thanks for reviewing :)**

**_butt-kicking-chick - _Thanks :D! Thanks for reviewing :).**

**_marshmallowfluff25 - +_sigh+ Jesse is always worth it, lol. But there may be another way... If Jesse is still speaking to her. Thanks fo rthe review :).**

**_CJHayes - _I apologise for keeping you up :). I'm glad that you liked the story...this is my favourite fic to write so it thrills me that little bit more when people review this one. And I will take your request into consideration, heh. Thanks for the review :)**

**The usual apologies for mistakes (I am too tired to check at the moment) and for offending people this time...**

**Stay tuned for more Jesseness (I think I need to reboot my brain :S)...**


	13. Freedom At A Price

**Cursed**

_**Chapter Twelve -** Freedom At A Price_

_"Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change." - **Malcolm X**_

As soon as I left the Slater's mansion, I unstrapped a horse from an unguarded carriage and rode it into the village. I could still feel the fury inside of me and no matter how hard I tried to surpress it, I found myself slowly turning into something that I did not like. I dug my heels into the poor horse's sides so hard that the innocent creature whinnied in protest. As soon as I dismounted it outside of Jesse's dwelling, it ran off, obviously not wanting to be subjected to more torture.

I pulled myself up through the window and landed on my knees inside the house. Various objects began to shake as I slowly made my way to the bedroom. I knew that I was creating this disturbance, but for once I did not care that my powers had gone out of control. I did not even know _how_ I was causing these objects to move, only that my fury was fuelling this unseen force.

I found an old sack in a storage room and dragged it to the bedroom as the doors swung back and forth, one almost hitting me in the face. I pulled handfulls of clothes out of Jesse's armoire, not looking to see what I was throwing into the sack. I noticed that a couple of my dresses were hanging neatly inside his armoire, left from the times when I got too dirty whilst mediating and Jesse offered to wash my clothes for me so that it would not raise my family's suspicions. I placed these dresses into the sack also. The guards would be looking for Jesse when they discover that he is gone and if they raid the house and find my dresses, I will be implicated. I also thought that the dresses would be useful if Jesse wanted something to remember me by.

I rushed around the house, packing various objects that looked to be either useful or of sentimental value; shoes, a miniature potrait of his family, his gun and spare bullets. I tied the sack and pulled it's handle over my arm once everything essential had been packed.

By the time I approached the window, I had calmed down somewhat and Jesse's furniture was no longer shaking or rearranging itself. As my eyes drifted over the surface of the various surfaces, I saw flashes of moments that Jesse and I had shared in this very room. Kissing on the old armchair in the corner, eating food that Jesse had lovingly prepared on the large beech table, discussing our future in his bedroom...the future we would now not have.

I clambered out of the window before my emotions got the better of me and did not flinch when cold hands gripped me under the arms and gently helped me down.

"I thought that you would be occupied," Marianne said, her voice cold and her disapproval obvious. "So I thought that it was strange when I sensed your prescence here."

She glared at me, but her expression softened when she saw my expression. I do not know what she could see, but it was enough for pity to show in her eyes.

"Is Jesse still at the jail?" I asked, my voice remaining calm.

"Y-yes," she stuttered, eyeing me as though I were a bomb about to explode. "I have been keeping him company since he was arrested. I know how lonely it can be when you are locked up...alone..." She drifted off, her eyes glazing over slightly. But I wasn't in the mood to wonder why.

I grasped the strap of the sack containing Jesse's belongings and began to run in the direction of the jail.

In the village of Fairwater, the jail was built near the harbour, which is the main reason for the dampness of the cells. Today I was thankful that they were in close proximity as I was able to rush towards the only boat moored in the harbour before I made my way to the jail. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that the small ship was still anchored and my heart almost skipped a beat in joy when I saw a mass of blonde hair behind a pile of crates.

"Jake!" I screamed, running towards the crates. "Jacob!"

Jake looked up when he heard his name and twitched slightly when he saw me. I wasted no time in jogging up to him.

"Suze, what are you doing here?" he asked. "Are you coming with me?"

I leaned onto one of the crates to balance myself as I was beginning to breathe unevenly.

"No," I gasped. "But I need you to do my a favour. My friend, he is in a spot of trouble. I need you to get him as far away from here as possible. He has family in Spain...take him there."

Jake shook his head slightly and took the sack that I had shoved into his hands.

"You want me to take your friend out of the country?" he repeated. "Why? What kind of trouble is he in?"

I frantically looked around, noticing from the position of the moon that it was getting late. I needed to hurry. I did not know how long it would take for me to break Jesse free. Then I needed to say goodbye to him...I was trying not to think of that too much right now because everytime that I thought about life without him, I could feel tears building up.

"Jake, please!" I begged, my voice hoarse and breaking slightly from the stress that I was under. "They are going to execute him...they are going to kill him for saving my life! Please help him!"

Jake's eyes suddenly shot up to meet my own. I know that Jake is a strong opposer of execution, especially when there is no evidence against the accused. His eyes softened suddenly, just like Marianne's had. It made me wonder what emotion filled my eyes.

"We sail in half an hour," he informed me. "If he is not here by then, there is nothing that I can do."

I smiled and threw my arms around my step-brother, my affection for him suddenly swelling. I thanked him and told him to take the sack of clothes onto the ship before heading in the direction of the jail. My shoes sank slightly into the soft earth as I hurried as fast as my legs would take me, Marianne materialising ahead of me.

The jail is not a long walk from the harbour but you have to cut through a housing community in order to get to it. The houses were cheap-looking and made mainly out of wood with farming equipment piled outside their doors. Most of the inhabitants would be asleep by now; no-one ventured out after dark. No-one but the witchfinders.

I skidded to a halt outside of the jail and Marianne held my arm and placed a finger to her lips.

"There is a guard," she informed me. "Do you wish for me to-?" She began to ask, but I was ahead of her. I slid silently inside before she could protest.

The guard (a long-haired middle-aged man) was fast asleep, the remnants of a late-night feast scattered across the table. There were legs of chicken that had been greedily stripped to the bone and clumps of bread piled up next to an empty pewter goblet. I frowned, knowing that he would not have shared any of this food with Jesse. In fact, Jesse had probably not been fed since his arrest.

I embraced the sudden wave of anger that rose up inside of me and took the goblet in my hand before moving closer to the sleeping guard.

He stood no chance. He was barely awake for a second before the goblet rendered him unconcious and my fingers deftly untangled the keys from his belt. Marianne gasped in protest behind me, but I ignored her. She was only irritating me.

I flew down the stairs towards the cells, making a lot of noise as I went. I steadied myself by running a hand along the wall, not caring that the dirt that caked every surface seeped through my fingers. I did wipe my hands on my dress before I rounded the corner to where the cells lay, suddenly concious about my image.

My heart seemed to cease beating as I approached Jesse's cell. There was so much that we needed to discuss; Paul, us...the future we could no longer share. But we had less than half an hour together before he had to leave. And I could not go with him...

He was asleep...or rather, he seemed to be sleeming. He lay on the floor of his cell, his face pointing skyward with his eyes closed. I could see his chest rising and falling more visibly than usual and I could see a faint line shine on his cheek when the dim moonlight from the miniscule window next to the ceiling above his cell hit his face.

I thrust the key into the lock and shoved the door open, desperate to just be close to him.

I fell to my knees beside his still form and placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

"Jesse," I whispered, tears trickling down my face. But these were not the same tears that I had been crying over the past few days...these were tears of pure, unadulterated happiness.

Jesse twitched when I touched him and his eyes opened, searching his cell until they landed on me. The joy that he felt was evident, but I could also see hurt in his eyes...immense pain. I could tell from the bloodshot quality of his eyes that he had been crying.

"_Querida_?" he spoke. He sounded confused and he even sat up and placed one of his own hands on my face to convince himself that I was actually here.

I smiled in reply and placed my hand over his, but he pulled away as soon as my skin connected with his. My smile quickly faded as he backed away from me.

"Susannah..." he spoke, the pain that I saw in his eyes now evident in his voice...accompanied by anger. "How could you? How could you give..."

He closed his eyes as though the words were causing him a great deal of pain. I instantly thanked all that was holy that I hadn't given in to Paul. I could see how it was destroying Jesse, tearing him apart from the inside out.

"Jesse," I said, shivering as the memories of a few hours ago flooded back. "I didn't...I couldn't go through with it. He started doing...it felt so wrong. It felt...he acted like an animal. I don't even want to think about what he made me do before I came to my senses... I attacked him...Paul. He could be dead right now. I came to get you out of here. There is a boat waiting at the harbour."

Jesse continued to stare at me as he took all of this new information in. I felt relieved when his expression softened as our eyes met, though the anger in his eyes did not subside. But I did not fear because I knew that _this_ anger was not towards me.

I knew that he still loved me when he came towards me and pressed his lips to mine, kissing me hungrily. I responded and allowed his tongue to glide over my lips, eliciting quite a few interesting sounds from me. His fingers dove into my hair, massaging my scalp gently while his body pressed against mine. I moaned loudly, wrapping my arms around his torso, glad to feel loving hands caress me rather than rough hands groping me.

"I love you, _querida_," he gasped, coming up for air before claiming me again. I moaned in agreement and pressed the palms of my hands against his incredible chest, enjoying the feel of his hard muscles against my soft flesh.

The emotions that were being poured into the kiss were overwhelming. I could feel myself becoming lost in them, suddenly desperate for him to touch me like Paul had, to chase those memories away. I wanted to feel every part of him, inside and out. I would have continued to let him kiss me like this for hours had Marianne not cleared her throat.

"Fifteen minutes," she informed us. "You should hurry."

Jesse looked at her in confusion as I pulled him to his feet before turning his attention back to me.

"Susannah, what does she mean?" He asked. I refused to look at him. How could I look into those captivating eyes as I destroyed everything that we had?

"Jesse, you are going back to Spain," I told him. I drew a deep breath and did not give him enough time to protest. "It is no longer safe for you here. My stepbrother is leaving for Spain in fifteen minutes and he said that he would take you with him. I have taken everything that you will need from your house. We must hurry, before someone realises that something is wrong."

He smiled, happiness filling those previously tormented eyes. His hands gently gripped my upper arms as he smiled down at me.

"_Querida_, this is great," he slurred, his joy affecting his voice. "We can finally be together without the constraints of our society holding us back. We should hurry."

He let go as me as he turned to leave his cell. Marianne did not once tear her eyes away from me. I knew that she did not want me to leave him, but I had to. I could not possibly go with him.

Jesse halted when he realised that I was not following him. I could feel my eyes becoming moist, but the tears did not fall.

"Susannah?" he asked, worry now mingling with the joy in his eyes. "Susannah, what is the matter?"

I shook my head gently to shake away my reluctance to answer.

"I am not going with you," I admitted. "I will stay here."

To say that he was upset would be an understatement. Suddenly he was not so happy to be leaving.

"Susannah, you can't be-" he started. "You can't be serious?"

I sniffled slightly and nodded my head.

"I can't go with you," I replied. "I have family here, I have responsibilities. At first, I could not imagine going on without you, but...I would rather you live alone than die because you love me. I am not worth it...no-one is worth dying for."

"Susannah," he protested, once again taking me by the shoulders though his grip was slightly tighter this time, almost as if he wanted to physically stop me from leaving him. "Susannah, you can't. You attacked a member of the town's aristocracy, they will have you tried as a witch! Can you not see what Paul has done to you? Your eyes...I have never seen so much torment in one person before. It is breaking my heart. Come with me...please."

"Jesse, I can't," I breathed. "Paul would not admit that it was I who attacked him. I know that he will want revenge, but I am ready to face the responsibility of my actions. I guess that we were just never meant to be. I can't go with you. Where would we go?"

"Anywhere," he begged. "We could go anywhere. Somewhere no-one knows our names, where we don't need a reason to love each other. By dawn, we will be halfway to...anywhere. Please, forget this life..._come with me_."

"Anywhere sounds good," I admitted. I allowed him to pull me into a quick embrace before Marianne told us that we must leave.

I held his hand as we climbed the grimy steps together, him pulling me into him so that the dirt on the walls did not rub onto my already soiled dress. When we finally reached the entrance, I gasped in shock upon realising that the jailor was no longer sprawled out on the floor; he was gone. I did not have enough time to dwell on this however as Marianne took a hold of my free arm and, with the help of Jesse, pulled me through the jail door.

I did not even notice when I was violently jerked to a halt.By the time I had come to my senses, Jesse and Marianne were already aware of the crowd surrounding us.

I knew that I should have told Marianne to watch the jailor while I freed Jesse. I should at least have hit him as hard as I hit Paul.

Jesse pulled me towards him protectively as the crowd glared at us in fury.

"Let the girl go," demanded a guard, a rifle pointed at Jesse. That was when I realised that Jesse was holding me in a posessive way. The guard must have misinterpereted his body language.

"Let the girl go," the guard repeated, "and we can talk this through.

I felt Marianne let go of my arm.

"Jesse," I whispered. "What do we do?"

I should not have asked him that question. After all, it was my idea to break him free. I should have at least had some sort of plan in case something like this happened.

"I will give you five seconds," the guard informed Jesse, whos grip on my arms had tightened to the point of being painful.

"Don't shoot!" I shouted, but the guard only ignored my cry. He began to count down from five.

"Please!" My words fell on deaf ears.

The crowd around us paid no attention to me either. It was obvious that they were the inhabitants of the nearby houses, come to see what all the fuss was about. Their accusing eyes were firmly fixed on Jesse. What right did they have to accuse him of anything? They had probably never set eyes on him before tonight.

"Two."

I was too scared to do anything. I moved infront of Jesse in an attempt to protect him, but it was useless; he was taller than me so the guard could easily shoot him in the head.

I did not notice the farming equipment from the nearest house rattling. As the guard counted down to one I held my hand out towards him and screamed "no" at the top of my voice.

I did not see the rake fly past me until it pierced the guard's chest, killing him instantly. He fell to the ground silently, the eyes of the crowd following him. I turned to see Marianne next to the equipment, shaking slightly.

"Witch!"

That one word was enough to turn my head. The lone voice was soon joined by dozens more.

"Witch! Witch! Witch! Witch!"

They thrust their fingers in my direction, spitting the word 'witch' at me. I could see the hatred etched in every line on their faces.

"Susannah," Jesse said from behind me. "We have to go."

He pulled me towards the place the guard had fallen as I tried to block out the terrible sound that had filled the night air. Marianne used her abilities to part the crowd so that Jesse could pull me through.

The words burned my ears like a hot poker, the pain making it difficult to hear. I never thought that those words would be spoken when referring to me...I never _wanted_ them to be.

I moved my legs hurridly, not actually sure if my feet were touching the ground.

Jesse and I sprinted towards the harbour, the angry crowd slowly but surely following us.

The harbour loomed closer and closer yet it still seemed so far away. I could see one of the crewmen untying the ship and this made me run faster. My lungs were burning from the lack of oxygen, my joints aching from the build-up of lactic acid. I wanted to rip my corset from my body and fling it aside to free myself, but I had no time.

"Wait!" We screamed as the ship began to pull away.

Jake leaned over the side and waved at us, yelling that we had to hurry. He became more franctic when he saw the angry mob pursuing us. His blonde hair fell into his eyes but I could still see his face turning red from the screaming.

We made it to the edge of the dock as the ship began to turn and somehow managed to leap from the jetty and hold on to the rope net that hung ofer the starboard side of the ship. As I reached for the next rope up my foot slipped on the wet fibers and my shoe fell into the churning water below.

I screamed as I lost my grip and Jesse's hand shot out. As his fingers wrapped around my wrist, Marianne's (who had materialised to my right) gripped me under my arm. Together they managed to pull me up and help me regain my grip. I kicked off my other shoe as I found that they were only hindering my progress.

Jesse was the first to reach the top, his muscles being more developed than my own, but he stopped before climbing onboard to help me. Jake reached down and grasped my hands as Jesse used his free hand to push me up. His hand rested on the top of my thigh, gripping it tightly so that I did not fall. Despite the gravity of the situation, I still felt _something_ where his hand touched my thigh. I was luck that Jake was also holding on to me because this sensations made me feel so weak that I would have fallen otherwise.

I collapsed onto the deck as Jake turned to help Jesse up, exhausted from my minor workout.

But exhausted was not all that I was. I also felt fear. Fear that I had left my life behind, that I had given up my family.

Jesse grabbed my shoulders and pulled me upright to check that I was alright and I fell onto him. He wrapped his protective arms around me and whispered sweet Spanish words into my sweat-soaked hair. I returned the favour, hugging him tightly and pressing my cheek against his hard chest.

We were only allowed to embrace for a few moments before Jake begged for our attention. He asked a lot of awkward questions; who Jesse was, why I was here, why we were being chased. I chose to tell him the truth as I was too exhausted, both physically and emotionally, to lie. My encounter with Paul was finally dawning on me. Suddenly I could feel his hands all over me again, feel his breath against my skin. I felt so dirty. I wanted to scrub away at my skin until every feeling was washed away.

Jesse noticed my sudden change in behaviour and tried to comfort me, but I couldn't tell him the truth. I couldn't tell him what Paul had done to me. What I had almost done to him.

"_Querida_, I know that you are worrying about Paul," he whispered, placing an arm around me and leaning us both back against the side of the ship. "But know this...no matter what happened, no matter what he made you do...I still love you."

He softly kissed my head as my eyes remained foxed on the wooden pole a few feet infront of us.

I knew that I would miss my old life with my mother and Andy...and David. But somehow I did not feel bad about leaving. In fact, I felt happy, in a strange, twisted sense of the word. I felt...free.

I leaned closer into Jesse, unable to prevent a smile from creeping across my face. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in his sweet scent. He smelt slightly different; sweat and the musky scent of the jail mixed in with his natural scent, but he still smelled like heaven to me.

"Where do we go from here?" he asked. I could feel his voice reverberating through his body.

I thought for a few moments. I didn't know where we would go now. I did not think that Jesse's family would welcome me, not when they discovered that their beloved Hector was alive and well and had been with me for the past few months. Then I remembered something that Jesse had said to me, back in the jail.

"'Anywhere' sounds good."

**AN - Sorry about the fluff, lol. I do realise that it is a bit too much.**

**I am thinking about making this the end and creating a sequel for part two, which would be rated M. Otherwise, I will be putting the rating for this up to M soon for violence and maybe sexuality. ****Just a warning ;).**

**Thank you to all of my reviewers. And my readers. My stats increased like you don't know what last chapter! Seriously, I'm getting more hits for this than for Something Wicked at the moment. And SW is getting more reviews than this! Please review. I adore feedback! I know that the hits will always be greater than the number of reviews, but... You must have something to say. Even if it is 'good' or 'ok', click that button!**

**But thank you to everyone...I was so happy when I saw the hits for last chapter :). It inspired me to write more...and look how quickly I updated!**

**Well, I will end this author's note before it becomes longer than the chapter...**

**Thank you!**

**And, Emmohdee...thanks so much, I laughed my ass off when I read the first line of your review, hehe. :)**

**Disclaimer - The Mediator and all related characters belong to Meg Cabot. The song 'Anywhere' which I so obviously 'borrowed' some of Jesse's words from belongs to Evanescence...back in their glory days.**


	14. Clear Skies

**Cursed**

_"All I want is freedom, a world with no more night..." **- Andrew Lloyd Webber**_

I have never been on a ship before in my life. They are somehow a lot colder than I had expected them to be. The sea breeze seemed to be present even in the cabin below deck. I actually began to wonder if the chill was not simply my imagination.

I was lucky that I had packed a couple of my dresses when I collected Jesse's belongings. I was the only female on the ship (with the exception of Marianne, but Jesse and I were the only passengers who could see her) so I would have been lost if I did not have the spare clothes.

The journey to Spain took three days on rough seas and I spent each one of them below deck either on my own or with Jesse. I had a lot on my mind, especially with the torment I was suffering from my brief interlude with Paul. I told Jesse everything that had happened and although he was furious (with Paul), he was there for me and assured me that Paul would pay for his sins. I could only hope.

The three days that it took to reach our destination seemed to last for an age. On the dawn of the day of our arrival, I dressed myself in the most respectable dress I had packed. This was a full-skirted dress with a tight bodice and short sleeves (I heard that the weather in Spain was always hot). I hated wearing dresses like this one; they restrict movement far too much. I prefered to wear free-flowing dresses, the kind that allowed you to move as you wanted with no chafing or bruising. But I wanted to impress Jesse's family, as ridiculous as it may sound. I did not even know if Jesse's family would accept _him_ back, let alone a girl they had never met before.

"You look beautiful, _querida_," Jesse told me. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I could not feel his arms, due to the thickness of my bodice, but I enjoyed the embrace nonetheless. One of his hands came up and began to play with one of my curls. I was amazed with how easily my hair fell into place this morning, and by how beautifully it curled. The only mirror on the ship was an over-polished piece of metal which I had not seen since my farmgirl days, back when we could not afford a proper mirror.

"What if they send us away?" I asked, using my own arms to hold Jesse's.

"I have many friends in Spain," he informed me. "I am sure that we could stay with them until we find our feet. Or we could travel. I don't care what we do, as long as we do it together."

The corners of my mouth twitched as he spoke. Ever since our escape from my hometown of Fairwater Jesse has been happier than I have ever seen him. When he talks to me he compliments me on anything and everything, he watches everything I do with a spark in his eye and does not seem to worry about the fact that we have no money and no plans for the future. When I see him like this, it makes me glad that I did not force him to leave on his own. Seeing him this happy made me ecstatic. It was almost worth leaving my family behind.

I turned around to face him and saw that, once again, his eyes were alight with a powerful, indescribable emotion. The smile on his face seemed involuntary.

"I love you," I told him, a fact that he was well aware of. "And I am glad that we left Fairwater together."

I pulled him down towards me, opening my mouth as he kissed me. His hands explored my back, the effect somewhat spoiled by my overtight bodice. He must have realised this, because he moved one hand to cup my cheek while the other held me into him. He kissed me with the same hunger that I had seen in his eyes over the past few days. It filled me with an overwhelming sense of happiness, knowing that the fiery passion that I could feel within him was because of me...it amazed me that I could actually make someone feel that way. Me, Susannah Simon, the farmgirl-turned-aristocrat.

The kiss ended suddenly as he apologised for being so forward. I was beginning to grow tired of his constant apologies. It seemed perfectly normal at first, despite the fact that I actually liked him being so 'forward' with me, but now that he apologised _every_ time our kissing became too heated it was starting to grate on me.

"I came to inform you that we are apporaching the harbour," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the wall behind me. Then, without so much as a 'by your leave', he ascended the steps to the deck.

I honestly do not know what is the matter with him lately. He seems to want more than he is willing to take as far as our relationship goes. I was beyond the point of caring what he took.

I blamed Paul for everything that was wrong with _me_ lately. Although Jesse and I have never been closer, I began to shun physical intimacy. I guess that I deemed myself unworthy for him. I was tainted, in a sense. Everywhere that Jesse touched, Paul's hands would have already been. Jesse's touch would be nothing new to me and I despised the thought of him not being able to claim me first. Of course, I had not lost my virginity to Paul, but it did not mean that I had not lost my purity to him. Jesse may think that he wants me, but when it comes down to it, he would not want someone who was unclean.

I followed Jesse up to the deck, holding my dress up so that I did not trip on the skirt. The whole crew of the ship (who weren't occupied with steering it) were leaning over the side, pointing towards the dock. My eyes were drawn skyward.

I have never seen a sky so clear. In Fairwater, there were always a few wispy strands of cloud dotted about the sky. In Spain, on the other hand, there was not a cloud in sight. The sea was as blue as Paul Slater's eyes as opposed to the murky grey of the ocean surrounding Fairwater. The beaches were composed of the most beautiful, golden sand that I had ever seen. It looked soft, as though it would feel pleasant to walk on.

Standing next to Jesse, I noticed him tense slightly as the ship pulled into the dock. I knew that it must be terrifying for him, facing his family after all this time.

I knew that I would not be able to face _my_ family, should I ever return to Fairwater.

Jesse held my hand to keep me steady as I cautiously stepped onto the dock. There were many people surrounding us. No doubt relatives of the other passengers. I kept my head bowed as Jake led us towards two carriages that were lined up near the gravel path. The carriages were not much different than the ones I was used to back home; they were made out of the same mahognay wood, the carvings on the doors almost identical to the carefully-chiselled murals on Fairwater's closed carriages.

"Jesse gave me the location of his family's ranch," Jake told me as he assisted me with climbing into the carriage. "I will write to you everytime that I move on to another location so you will know where to find me, should anything go wrong."

"Thank you, Jake," I told him, planting a kiss on his forehead. "For everything."

He blushed furiously at this and began to mumble about his plans. Once he was certain that I would be safe, he stepped aside and allowed the carriage to drive off.

Once we were clear of the harbour, I let out a long breath that I didn't realise I had been holding. I also suddenly regretted wearnig such a heavy dress. I knew that it was warm in Spain, but I honestly never expected it to be _this_ warm. I began to shift uncomfortably beneath the mound of fabric that weighed my legs down, the sweat trickling down my calves. Jesse noticed my discomfort and raised one of his eyebrows.

"Don't say that I did not warn you," he told me, his voice showing no sympathy. I glared at him because I knew that he was right. He told me to wear a dress that was light and airy, such as the one I had been wearing when we left Fairwater, but I had ignored him. When I chose my outfit I did not think of comfort, I wanted to dress to impress.

"At least help me take this outer skirt off," I moaned. He obliged and reached over to to help untie my skirt. It was not an easy task; the carriage was very small and my skirt was very large.

"How did you put this thing on?" he laughed, attempting to pull the skirt down over my hips.

"With great difficulty," I replied, unable to contain my laughter.

Somehow, Jesse managed to pull the waistband of the skirt over my rather wide hips. As he leaned over me, I could not help but notice that his shirt fell open slightly, revealing some of the silky chest hair that I have longed to run my fingers through. I sighed as his fingers brushed my thighs when he pulled my skirt further down, but in realisation, not pleasure.

Was this how our relationship would continue? Platonically? I knew that while my parents are still alive, I would not be allowed to marry without their permission. And I highly doubted that my mother and Andy would allow me to marry a blacksmith, let alone a blacksmith I ran away to Spain with.

I am not a religious girl, so the reason I had previously frowned upon pre-marital sex was purely because it was seen as a social stigma. But now that I was in love and I had felt feelings of a sexual nature, I no longer saw it as a sin. But Jesse _is_ religious and I knew that he would not give himself to me before marriage.

"Susannah?" Jesse's voice pulled me back to reality. "Is that better?"

I looked down to see that my outer skirt had been removed so that all that covered my legs was the thin satin underskirt. Fortunately the bodice was quite tight and the same colour as the underskirt so it did not look out of place.

"Much better," I smiled. "Thank you."

He remained in a kneeling position in front of me as I gazed down at him. He has no idea how much I love him.

"Is this it?" I asked him. I was finding it hard to voice my feelings. "Is this where it ends for us? I know that we are together, but this is as far as we can go. No priest will marry us, therefore we can not start a family and...and... I just don't want this to be _it_."

He sighed deeply and pushed himself up onto the seat beside me.

"_Querida_," he whispered, placing an arm around me and pulling me into him. "You need to stop worrying. We are free. I will not let anything happen to you now, I promise. As for marriage and family...I am sure that we will find a way. I know that _you_ will...you have developed a rebellious streak...assaulting the governer's son and a guard, freeing a criminal from jail, fraternising with a member of a lower class than your own..."

As he spoke, his face inched further towards mine. He had also brought one of his hands up to my face and began to trace my lower lip with his thumb.

"Well, I would like to think that we have been doing more than simply fraternising," I joked, moving so that our lips were just touching. Once again I could see that sparkle in his eyes. I longed to know what it was, but I dared not ask.

I allowed him to kiss me gently, our lips merely brushing each other's. It was slow and romantic.

"I find your rebellious streak quite endearing," he whispered. I involuntarily giggled girlishly.

"Tell me about your family," I asked. "Will they like me?"

"Susannah, they will love you," he laughed, obviously finding my nerves hilarious. "My immediate family owns a large ranch on which my parents and my five sisters live. Marta, Josefina, Mercedes, Alita and Elena. You have nothing to worry about, I promise. Alita and Elena are six and eight years old, so even if for some reason the others despise you, they will not care."

I pretended to huff. Five sisters? I do not get on well with other females. For some reason, they always end up stabbing me in the back (CeeCee and the other women of the valley excepted, of course).

I must have fallen asleep on Jesse's shoulder because the next time I opened my eyes the sun hung high in the sky and the carriage was beginning to slow down. Jesse shook me gently to make sure that I was awake before looking out of the carriage and swallowing hard.

"We are here," he gulped, seeming extremely uneasy.

When the carriage pulled to a stop, he gathered up my skirt and exited the carriage, helping me down after him. He is always the gentleman.

I turned to look at the ranch as he assisted the driver in pulling our small luggage off the roof of the carriage.

I must say that the scenery was breathtaking. The ground was dry yet the grass seemed to be a more vivid shade of green than the grass back in Fairwater. The sky was a tranquil blue and there was not a cloud in sight, much to my delight. The ranch was beautiful. It was also enormous; I could only see part of it from where I stood. The buildings were constructed out of wood and painted a light ochre, which went perfectly with the mahogany-coloured roof.

From where I stood, two buildings were immediately visible to me and a large wooden gate stretched between them. The gate was currently open and I could see further into the ranch. What seemed to be a large, stone building loomed in the background. I guessed that this was the family house as it was the most elegant building that was visible to me. I could also see two tiny dark dots moving around on the porch of this building. I assumed that these were children.

"Are you ready?" Jesse asked, nervously taking my arm and flashing me a smile that betrayed his confidence.

I nodded slowly, realising that Jesse should be more nervous than me.

We slowly began to walk towards the ranch, the dry ground hot beneath our feet. I knew that it would take me a while to adapt to this heat, but it would not be too difficult.

I discovered that the ranch was twice as large as I had originally assumed. As soon as we walked through the gates, I could see more land behind the house. People busied themselves with various tasks as we continued to walk, many of them not looking at us twice. A couple of the workers stared at Jesse, as if wondering why he looked so familiar. I noticed that his eyes did not remain focused on one object for long, they took in everything as if he were seeing them for the first time. I saw a tiny bead of sweat trickle down his forehead and I was sure that it was not a product of the heat. I squeezed his arm reassuringly as we drew closer to the house and I saw that the two moving dots _were_ two children...two young girls.

They wore light, airy, elegant dresses which were slightly soiled and their hair hung loosely around their faces. They were very pretty and i could tell that they would grow up to be beautiful women. Their skin was the same colour as Jesse's and their eyes were a shade or two lighter. It was obvious that they were relatives of Jesse; they had his beauty.

Jesse froze as we stepped onto the porch and I had to take a step back.

"Jesse?" I asked. I was shocked when I looked into his eyes. It was obvious that he was trying ahrd to fight back tears. But they seemed to be tears of happiness. He had once told me that leaving his family behind was the hardest thing that he had ever done.

"Jesse, it is alright," I whispered. "Let them know that you are here."

It transpired that we did not have to make our presence known. We had barely taken a few steps forward when both girls ceased play-fighting and turned their heads towards us. When they saw me, I noticed a flicker of fear in the eyes of the younger girl. I knew it well; when I was young, I feared every new face that I saw. They both looked at me questiongly for a moment or two before turning their attention to the man next to me. That was when fear was evident in both of their eyes. Instead of running towards their brother and embracing him, they opened their mouths and screamed.

The sound was deafening.

After about ten seconds of screaming, they picked up their skirts and ran inside the house, screaming in Spanish.

Had I not been so worried about Jesse's fragile state, I would have found it quite funny.

"This was a bad idea," Jesse muttered and attempted to walk away. I managed to grab his arm and drag him towards the house. We had barely reached the spot where his sisters had stood a few minutes ago when a middle-aged woman strode through the front door, the two young girls cowering behind her legs.

This woman was the same size as my mother, though she worn a stern expression that made her look years older than her. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a tight bun with short bangs falling into her eyes. She had an air of beauty about her, though it was not obvious beauty like that which the girls possessed.

She spoke something in Spanish to the girls before turning to Jesse and I. I felt his muscles tense beneath my grip.

The woman's reaction was similar to Jesse's. As soon as she laid eyes on him, her expression softened and she whispered what I assume was a profanity in Spanish.

"Jesse?" She gasped. I looked from her to Jesse and suddenly I understood.

"_Madre_," Jesse breathed, still tense. He must have expected her to be angry at him for killing Felix Diego and for running away rather than facing what he had done.

What he obvioulsy didn't expect was her to be so glad to see her only son that she would run up to him and take him in her arms. Which is exactly what she did. She was speaking to him frantically in Spanish and holding him so tight that he began to complain.

"Where did you go?" she demanded, finally pulling away from him. "We thought that you were dead. Diego's body was found with your horse and we feared the worst."

Jesse smiled at her in a forced manner. I could tell that he did not know what to say to her. The moisture around his eyes told me that this was an emotional event for him. He exchanged an emotional glance with his mother before clearing his throat and pulling me towards him.

"_Madre_, I would like you to meet Susannah," he said, choking on his words. "She...she is the reason I am standing here before you now."

His mother's dark eyes scrutinised me for a few minutes, taking in my attire and my features. I instantly thanked a higher power that I had applied make-up this morning. When her eyes finally met mine, I saw a flicker of hostility in them. I can not say that I blamed her for being wary of me.

I attempted to smile, but by nerves had taken over and I was barely able to twitch the corners of my mouth.

"Susannah?" Mrs. de Silva repeated, speaking as though she were testing my name, to see how it sounded in her voice.

My initial thought was 'oh no, she hates me', but when I felt Jesse's hand on my arm, his arm around me, I relaxed and noticed that Mrs. de Silva relaxed, too. The hostility in her eyes vanished and was replaced with pride, unless I am mistaken.

"Well, _Susannah_," she said, her eyes fixed on the hand that held my arm. When she dragged her eyes back up to meet mine, I saw them sparkling with yet another emotion. "If you wish to stay here, you are welcome to stay for as long as you wish. I owe you a lot for bringing my son back to me."

She raised a hand to her nose before turning and walking back inside the house. Beside me, I heard Jesse exhale gustily, shuddering as he did so. He raised his free hand and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"At least it is over with now," he breathed. "At least until my _padre_ returns."

I turned so that I was facing him and placed a hand on his cheek in a reassuring manner.

"Your mother seems nice," I told him. "But this is not about your family, remember? This is about _us_. If your father does not accept you back, it is not the end of the world. You still have me...you will _always_ have me."

He smiled, laughing slightly at his pessimism. Once he had finished laughing, I pulled him towards me and pressed my lips to his. I had only intended it to be a light peck, but he held me close and eased his tongue into my mouth, turning something pure and innocent into something entirely sinful. Though where Jesse is concerned, no act is too sinful in my eyes. I would gladly bite _any_ apple that he offered me.

He pulled away from me when we heard childish giggling.

"Did you just put your tongue in her mouth?" his youngest sister asked, her voice filled with disgust.

"Why would you do something like that?" asked the older one.

Jesse sighed before yelling at them playfully in Spanish and chasing them down the porch.

At that moment, only one thought crossed my mind.

_I could get used to this..._

**AN - ... Yeah. Apologies for any lack of quality in that last part.**

**As of now, this story is rated M...I will leave it a few days before changing the rating so that all of my loyal readers can read this note :). Because you guys rock. Seriously. I'd like you all to have some virtual chocolate fudge cake...**

**The...um...quote at the top of the page (I'm trying to shake this quote habit, I swear...) is from All I Ask Of You from The Phantom of the Opera. I felt that I had to add it because it was basically all that I was listening to when I was writing this chapter...**

**Updates may be slower in the furture because I have (gasp!) exams to revise for. And I want to take a short break to replenish my creative juices (it seriously isn't as gross as it sounds...) so that my writing quality doesn't start to slip.**

**And now, my replies to reviews (because I can't remember who I replied to personally...:S) **

**_creating apathy_ - I decided to stick with the one story :). It's less confusing. And the magical folk WILL be returning. Though their role has changed slightly... Thanks for the review!**

**_Frolicking Bananas_ - Next chapter ;). Thanks for the review!**

**_marshmallowfluff25_ - I feel safe with fluff, so it seems to come out naturally, lol. Thanks for the review:)**

**_Harry's no.1 Wifey_ - Whoo! I never knew that any PFCers read my stories, with me being a JFCer... Thanks for the review:)**

**_bbblfl_ - It's not that good, seriously :P. What I have coming up, I mean...in fact, a lot of people will probably hate me for it... Unless I change my mind...Thanks for the review! Though you really should be spending the time it takes to decipher my terrible grammar to work on Psyche ;).**

**A huge thanks to all of my other reviewers...I love you all!**

**Please review :)...let's see if we can break 100 by the next chapter :).**


	15. Longing

**Cursed **

_"Teach me passion, for I fear it's gone. Show me love, hold the lorn. So much more I wanted to give the ones who love me," - **Nightwish**_

"Susannah."

I attempted to ignore the voice that called my name.

"Susannah."

The voice continued to speak despite my ignorance so I attempted to pull the blanket over my head to drown out the irritatingly feminine noise. But my hands met with nothing but air. Instinctively, my eyes shot open and I found myself gazing at my bedroom ceiling...my _own _bedroom ceiling.

The first emotion that hit me was fear. My heart began to pound so fast that I found it difficult to breathe. I gripped one of the bedposts and pulled myself off the bed as my eyes took in my surroundings. My bedroom was exactly the way that I had left it. The bed remained tidy with my pillows neatly fluffed. My wardrobe seemed slightly dusty, but this just made it obvious that it had not been opened in a while. It was that simple detail that caused me to relax. If my wardrobe had not been opened then I had not dreamt escaping to Spain.

Then why was I back in Fairwater?

I looked around for the owner of the voice that had roused me from my slumber but the room was empty and the window was firmly closed.

I tentatively stepped through the open door and padded lightly down the hallway. It didn't make any sense...I was in Spain. I rescued Jesse and we were starting a new life together. I left Fairwater behind me. Why was I here?

I could hear voices in the distance and I moved towards them with the hope that they could explain my current situation to me.

I pushed the door to the lounge open and silently slipped inside.

Even the lounge was exactly how I remembered it. The large portrait of my mother, Andy, Andy's three sons and myself hung above the fireplace as though nothing had happened...as though one of the portrait's subjects had not been accused of witchcraft and consequently fled the country.

I was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of guilt. The portrait depicted a happy family, one rich with unconditional love. Yet the scene that I observed a few feet below it was not a happy one. David sat on the floor with his back to the wall, his chin resting on his knees while Brad paced back and forth in front of him. My mother sat on one of the divans, gazing mournfully down at a letter that she held loosely in her trembling hands. Andy stood behind her wearing a worried expression, with his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.

But it was the silence that hurt me. Brad was not shouting his usual demands and even David was sitting quietly with a distant look in his eyes.

As I drew closer to them it became obvious that they could not see me...that they were not even aware of my presence.

"I am sure that she is doing well," Andy told my mother, squeezing her shoulders. This small reassurance seemed to have no effect as she continued to stare down at the crumpled piece of paper.

"She is always causing trouble," Brad muttered. "She should not have left...And to think that Jake had a part in this..."

"If you know what is best, you will keep quiet, Bradley Ackerman!" Andy roared, rounding on his son. "Your brother only did what he believed was best for Susannah...he saved her life."

My mother allowed the latter to fall to the floor and rose to her feet, smoothing down her dress. Andy noticed this and approached her, dripping her upper arms with his hands in what I guess could be construed as a comforting action. My mother didn't respond, she simply looked into her husband's eyes.

I took the opportunity to bend down and read the letter that lay on the floor.

_Dear mother and father,_

_I know that you must be angry at me for leaving without a farewell, but I felt that this was something I had to do. I also know that Susannah is no longer with you. There may be stories about her floating around, many of which are probably not true but rest assured that she is now safe. She does not wish me to disclose information about why she left and I feel it is best that you do not know where she is...at least for now._

_Although she is with me no longer, she is with a friend who I guarantee will protect her no matter what the cost to himself may be. She is in safe, capable hands. She wanted me to tell you that she loves you very much and that she is sorry to cause you so much trouble._

_I will continue to write to you with more news but please...do not worry about Susannah._

_Jacob_

My heart instantly swelled with adoration for my step-brother. I could not bring myself to write to my mother and explain my situation. I also thanked all that was holy that Jake had not mentioned Paul. I dared not think what it would do to my mother, knowing that she had attempted to persuade her daughter to marry the man who drove her from the country.

I rose to my feet and walked over to my mother, who was now sobbing freely into Andy's chest. It tugged at my already fragile heartstrings to see her cry over me but I told myself that I needed to be strong. But every tear that she shed only served to increase the guilt that I felt. I reached out to touch her but my hand (which I realised now possessed a ghostly glow) simply passed through her.

"I lost her," she sobbed, allowing Andy to gently stroke her hair. "Ever since Peter's death she has seemed distant but now...I never thought that I would actually lose her."

Her words brought forward another wave of tears and Andy attempted to soothe them away, but his attempts were all in vain.

"I always talked to her, but I never stopped to listen to what she had to say," she continued. "If only I had listened... I was too busy trying to do what _I_ thought was best for her..."

I felt a tear slide down my cheek, taking me by surprise. I casually wiped it away and allowed my hand to hover just above her shoulder.

"It's not your fault," I whispered, aware that she could not hear me.

"Governor Slater offered to loan us men...and a ship to search for her," Andy whispered. "It is your decision."

My mother sniffed a few times before pulling back and looking him in the eyes.

"I just want to talk to her again," she admitted. "Bring her home...please."

I was about to scream in protest when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I do not know which surprised me the most, the fact that someone could touch me or the fact that the hand was warm.

When I turned around Marianne gazed at me sadly. She still exuded a supernatural glow yet it was fainter than usual.

"Susannah, we have to go," she told me. Her hand moved to the bare skin of my arm and she began to pull me from the lounge. I did not even attempt to fight her. I would gladly follow her anywhere, as long as I did not have to witness my mother cry for a moment longer.

She pulled me through the same door I had ran through after my confrontation with Paul and we entered the gardens, which were illuminated by the moonlight.

"Why am I here?" I asked her once she had pulled me clear of the house.

"Susannah, you shifted out of your body," she explained. "It can happen when you have a strong unconscious will to be somewhere. You were obviously so worried about your family that you became separated from your body in order to visit them. It is a very rare occurrence...the urge must have been unusually strong."

I nodded in realisation. There are a lot of abilities I possess that I do not know about. But still, the thought of separating my soul from my body was frightening. I was obviously still alive because I could feel a pull somewhere behind my navel and the urge to succumb to it was powerful.

"You cannot stay separated for too long," Marianne continued. I paid her no attention. Instead, I began to explore the gardens, inhaling the scent that I had not realised I had missed until now. "Although you _will_ be pulled back to your body should you stay disconnected for too long."

I heard her frustrated sigh as I walked away from her, turning towards the large floral display that lay in the centre area which connected our garden to the Slaters'. The flowers had begun to wilt slightly as fall approached, though they still retained most of their natural beauty. I could smell the sweet aroma that they exuded and was instantly reminded of the ball.

A soft cough roused me from my reverie. It was a distinctly masculine cough. I slowly stepped out from behind the display and gasped in shock when I saw Paul standing with his back to me, a hand raised to his head.

My gasp must have caught his attention because he spun around and met my eyes. I was frozen to the spot, suddenly aware that he could see me thanks to his ability.

He looked just like he had when I left him bleeding on the floor of his bedroom, only now he was fully clothed and there was no sight of blood. Though I did see a small gash on the side of his head which forced his hair to part unnaturally.

To my surprise he did not attempt to move towards me, or to make any contact at all. He simply continued to look at me with those piercing blue eyes which at the moment displayed an overwhelming amount of conflicting emotions. He seemed surprised to see me there, though he could tell by my ghostly glow that I was not physically here. Did he think that I had died? Part of me hoped that he did, and that he would blame himself.

I assumed by the look that he cast me that he knew I was not dead...

His eyes seemed to bore into my own and the corner of his lips twisted upwards. I did not know why he was smiling because those eyes contained no malice or cunning.

I felt my muscles relax as he remained where he was. I had been preparing for a confrontation. After a few moments Marianne came up behind me and urged me to return to my body. I could already feel the pull increasing in strength and the urge to just let go and allow it to pull be away seemed almost irresistible. But I continued to gaze at Paul, waiting for him to make the first move. Maybe he was aware of this and that is why he was simply smiling at me. It was beginning to irritate me slightly, so I slowly allowed myself to be pulled by that mysterious force.

It must have been the moment that he had been waiting for because he spoke as I silently drifted away.

"Your chains are still mine," he whispered.

I did not feel my re-entry into my body, but I did feel hands on my shoulders gently shaking me awake.

"Susannah, please wake up," Jesse's anxious voice begged. As soon as my muscles were capable of moving my limbs I threw myself at him, taking him by surprise.

I felt him relax beneath me after a moment or two and his arms came around me.

"_Nombre de Dios_!" he exclaimed, holding me tighter than I thought possible. "You scared me. I couldn't wake you."

I could not reply to this and simply let him hold me possessively. It was amazing how his arms could make me forget about all of my problems. I never even realised that I was cold until I felt the heat pouring off his body. But even the comfort and warmth that he provided could not chase away my tears. When he realised that I was quietly sobbing into his shoulder, Jesse pulled back and began to stroke my cheek with one of his thumbs.

"Susannah..." he whispered in a voice softer than the blanket beneath me. Before he had a chance to ask me what was wrong (which I was sure he was about to do), I found myself describing my journey to him. I told him about my heartbroken mother's state of mind and the boat that would be searching for me soon. I did not tell him about Paul, though I do not know why. Since leaving Fairwater we had agreed on no secrets. He knew everything there was to know about me, and I knew everything about him. But I couldn't bring myself to admit that Paul was right...I felt chained down, and he owned those chains. He was the one link with my life in Fairwater that I could not destroy, no matter what.

"It's tearing her apart," I cried. "I should not have left."

The hand that stroked my hair suddenly froze and I could feel Jesse holding his breath. I instantly knew that I had said the wrong thing and removed my head from where I had rested it on his chest so that I could look him in the eyes once more.

"I didn't mean..." I said. "I meant that I should have told her that I was leaving. I would be dead if I had not left Fairwater."

This was apparently not enough to repair the damage aa Jesse suddenly stood up and began pacing, his fingers running nervously through his hair.

"Do you regret this?" he asked eventually. "Do you regret running away with me? Do you regret coming to Spain?"

I gasped in shock and leapt off the bed towards him.

"Of course not!" I insisted. "How could you say that? I would be dead if I had not left...and so would you. I saved your life, and..."

But Jesse interrupted me and came to a halt where I could not see him, half in half out of the shadows.

"Then do you regret us?" I could tell that he was holding back tears of his own. "Because you have not been happy since we left Fairwater and you grow worse with every day that passes."

His question left me in shock. How could he even think that I regretted 'us'? Though it pained me to realise that he was right...

The first few days at the ranch were uneventful for the most part. Jesse reunited with his other three sisters and his friends and many tears were shed. His father, however, was apparently visiting another ranch...the ranch owned by Ricardo de Silva, Maria de Silva's father and Jesse's uncle. According to his mother, there was a lot of tension between Ricardo and his brother due to the wedding fiasco. When Diego's body was found, it was assumed that he had murdered Jesse on Maria's orders and fallen off the cliff when Jesse's horse put up a fight. Maria remained on her father's ranch, unable to leave due to the crime she had committed. Needless to say, Jesse's father blamed Ricardo for his only son's death so contact between them became almost non-existent. If I heard rightly, the reason for Jesse's father's trip was to make amends with his brother. Fortunately, Jesse's sisters seemed to like me.

But even though I got on well with his relatives, I preferred to remain in my bedroom most of the time. I guess that it was easier that way...for no-one to see me. I was terrified that I would walk outside one day and there would be Fairwater guards there waiting to arrest me. Jesse would spend time with me in my room and we would kiss and talk, but nothing new and exciting happened. It only took me two days to realise that this was it...this was the way I would be spending the rest of my life. I would do chores around the house, eat lunch, go up to my bedroom, kiss my boyfriend and then sleep. It never crossed my mind that a new life may not have necessarily meant a happy one.

"Jesse, I don't," I begged him. "I assure you that I could never regret us. I am just finding it hard to adjust to this life. I miss my family and I can't help hating Paul for driving me away from them. I try not to think about it, I really do, but it's always on my mind. I just want to let go, but I can't. Because this is it...this is as far as we go."

I sank down onto the edge of my bed in emotional exhaustion. It wasn't long before I felt Jesse move closer and kneel in front of me.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

I opened my eyes so that I could look at him and he appeared to be serious.

"Jesse, have you not realised that this is as far as _we_ go...as a couple?" I pulled my legs up onto the bed so that he was not positioned between them; it was making me uncomfortable. "No priest will marry us without my parents' permission. If I returned home, I would be executed. And you have a reputation there as a blacksmith and a murderer...they would never allow it. And without marriage, there is no living together...there is no kissing in public, there is no declaring our love, there is no sharing the same bed...there is no _children_."

Jesse blinked very slowly, not once tearing his eyes away from my face. I wanted to reach out and touch him, to pull his face close to mine and kiss every inch of it. But he was mad at me and would have pushed me away had I attempted such a thing.

Well, that was what I thought would happen. But when Jesse's hands gripped my waist and pulled me into him, I knew that I had been mistaken. Even more so when his lips met mine and he began to kiss me with the same enthusiasm as he had the first time we kissed. I surrendered completely to him, relaxing in his arms and allowing my hands to delve into his hair. After a few moments he pulled back, though his lips continued to brush against mine.

"_Querida_, do not worry," he whispered. His breath felt unusually pleasant against my lips. "We will find a way."

When he spoke those words, I believed him. I do not know why I believed him, but I did. Our situation was hopeless yet he had never lied to me before. I believed everything that he told me and this was no exception. I brushed my lips against his lightly in reply, but my body told me that this was not enough.

I allowed my hands to wander down to his waist and pull him onto the bed beside me. He moved without protest and leaned into me, his right hand gliding up my torso as he kissed me passionately once more. These kisses were not like anything I had experienced, not even with Jesse. The hunger that I could feel in his kiss was overwhelming and I easily became overpowered by the feelings that burned through my veins. He moved one of his legs in-between mine and I sighed at the contact. His trousers felt almost painfully rough against the bare skin of my inner thighs.

"_Te amo_," he whispered. He spoke in Spanish again. I did not know what he had said, but his voice was so heavy with passion that I assumed it was a compliment.

The hand that had rested on my waist slowly moved up and began to trace my collar bone, inching south. I shuddered involuntarily, reminded of Paul's touch, but Jesse was so gentle that all thoughts of Paul were chased from my mind.

I removed my hands from where they had been buried in his hair, running my fingers down the back of his neck until they reached the collar of his shirt. I smiled into the kiss as I slowly loosened the laces on the front of his shirt, which caused him to moan quietly and jerk his hand so that it rested on the curve of my breast.

I could feel the heat pouring off of him when I pressed the palms of my hands against his muscular chest. Under any other circumstances, I would have found this heat uncomfortable but somehow I wanted to get closer to it, to feel it scorch my skin. But Jesse would not allow me to press my chest against his; he was quite content simply massaging my breast gently. My breaths became more rapid as my fingers moved up his abdomen at an excruciatingly slow speed. I could feel every ridge of the muscles that he possessed and the beads of sweat that trickled over them. He tensed beneath my fingertips so I deepened the kiss, causing him let go and relax again, allowing me to caress him. His fingers began to unbutton my nightdress until I was exposed to him and he pulled back to admire me. I felt my cheeks flush as he stared breathlessly at my chest.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world," he gasped, his voice strangely...husky.

I giggled a little at his compliment. Of course, I most certainly was _not_ the most beautiful woman in the world, but if Jesse believed that then who was I to correct him? If, when he looked down at me, he saw a Hera of sorts gazing adoringly back at him then that was his opinion. But he loved me...and they _do_ say that love is blind.

As he gazed down at me, he moved his hand again so that he was cupping my breast and began to move his thumb across the sensitive skin. I had to bite my lip to suppress a moan. How could such a simple action feel so incredible? I looked up at him and saw that he was watching his hand carefully as though he were terrified that he would hurt me if he touched me in the wrong way. Even his hand was shaking, so I moved my free hand and placed it over his, guiding it so that he knew how I _wanted_ to be touched.

I felt the hand that I had placed on his chest curl into a fist, my fingernails slowly scraping his muscles. A deep, guttural groan seemed to be ripped from his throat and the next thing I knew he was on top of me, kissing the area around my mouth. I tried to turn so that his lips landed on mine but he would not allow it. I could not move at all beneath him; his body pinned me down in every place that mattered, and he had settled between my legs so that I could not roll over unless he moved with me. Eventually he ceased his torture and nibbled gently on my bottom lip.

I was burning up and I was sure that it had nothing to do with the heat that emanated from his body. I was losing control of my body as I tried desperately to find a way to block out the overpowering sensation that was creeping up on me. My legs wrapped themselves around his thighs to pull him further into me and my hands moved to his waist to pull him down onto me while my hips rose to meet his. Every time I touched him my fingertips burned. I would not have been surprised if sparks were leaping between the points of contact. He felt amazing...almost unreal. I could not touch his body without moaning in ecstasy so I chose to grip the bottom of his shirt and pull it up.

Suddenly he was gone. I felt his weight (and his roaming hand) vanish in an instant. When I recovered from the shock and sat upright I saw him pacing the floor, muttering to himself in rapid Spanish.

"Jesse?" I spoke tentatively. "What-what is wrong."

He placed his hands on his face then moved them back through his hair before turning to look at me.

"_Lo siento, querida_," he gasped, fighting for breath. "But I could feel my control slipping. This is not right..."

I opened my mouth to say something (what, I do not know) but he raised a hand to silence me and pulled my nightgown straight, buttoning it so that I was no longer exposed.

"I love you more than anything," he told me. "But it does not feel right...not now. I want it to be special...not a hasty act of passion."

I nodded slowly in understanding. He was right; our first time together should be a perfect moment, not a hasty fumble beneath the blankets.

"And we are not married," he added. I tried not to let those words affect me, but I failed.

"Jesse, my mother is sending men to look for me," I told him desperately. "And they _will_ find me...and when they do... I don't want to die alone. I want to show you how much I love you both emotionally_ and_ physically. I know that it is not the right moment, but I want to- no, I _need_ to know that it is an option...that it _will_ happen someday."

Jesse pulled me into his arms and held me close. I willingly melted into him, finding comfort in the warmth that continued to radiate from him.

"It will take time to adjust to this new life," he whispered. "But I love you and I want to share everything with you. We _will_ find a way."

And I believed him.

**AN - I decided to cut this chapter in half, so here is part one :). The quote is from a song called Dead Boy's Poem by Nightwish, if anyone is interested (probably not, hah).**

**I have to give a _huge_ thank you to everyone who helped me break 100 reviews. As someone who started out in the Resident Evil forums, where the average review-per-chapter number was about 3 (way back when), it is amazing to get that many reveiws when I am only half way through the story! So thank you!**

**I actually remembered to put the rating up this and it is M for...obvious reasons and a bit of violence later on (well, I won't know if the violence pushes the M barrier until I write it, but I'm playing safe :)). But for a while, it will be M for...romance...**

**No prizes for spotting the line I 'borrowed' from The Phantom Of The Opera...**


	16. Perfect

**Cursed **

_"In the truest sense, freedom cannot be bestowed; it must be achieved." _

**_- Franklin D. Roosevelt _ **

I heard a faint rustling noise, though it seemed so far away. I groaned into my pillow, my body wanting to sleep for a while longer, but the beams of sunlight that shone through the now-open windows would not allow me to drift off peacefully. I attempted to bury my head beneath the blanket that covered me and felt the bed dip down slightly as someone sat on the edge of it. When I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder through the blankets I smiled to myself and slowly pulled the blanket away from my face.

"Good morning, _querida_," Jesse purred, though I am sure that the purring was unintentional.

I smiled insanely in reply, suppressing a giggle. I was suddenly in a state of euphoria and a wave of heat seemed to pass through me. Jesse observed me in what I believe to be adoration as he stroked my cheek with his thumb. He skin felt so rough yet his touch was so gentle that I never wanted him to stop touching me. I could recall everything that had happened the previous night and my cheeks flushed red in slight embarrassment. I do not know why I felt embarrassed; it had all felt so natural...the way our bodies molded together, the soft Spanish words that he would whisper to me as his touch drove me to the brink of insanity. I licked my lips when he removed his hand and told me to come downstairs with him for breakfast.

_I wanted more..._

I shook my head in a vain attempt to chase away inappropriate thoughts and began to dress myself. I was lucky enough to have made such an impression on Jesse's sisters that they gave me some of their dresses (if they would fit me, of course) so that I did not have to alternate between the same two dresses.

Breakfast at the de Silva ranch was virtually the same as breakfast in the Ackerman house; arguments at the table, pretending to enjoy the food whilst secretly slipping it under the table where the dog waited anxiously for leftovers. Jesse was forced to sit next to his father's empty seat so contact was minimal, but our eyes would occasionally meet and a smile would soon follow. I assume that we were being inconspicuous because only one of Jesse's nosy sisters had found out about our more than friendly relationship. Which I was thankful for...I did not want to be sent back to Fairwater.

After breakfast I helped out with the simple chores, which basically meant that I cleaned the dirty dishes. Mrs. de Silva once told me that she wanted her daughters to do the simple household chores to teach them independence. Despite being the same age as her eldest daughter, she refused to let me help...until I managed to persuade her, of course. I hated sitting around feeling useless. And scrubbing dishes helped to keep my mind off other things...

"You seem tense," Josefina commented, passing me a clean dish to dry. At seventeen years old, Josefina was Jesse's oldest sister and the closest thing I had to a friend here (Jesse and Marianne excluded). She understood me better than anyone ever had. She was betrothed to the son of another rancher though she was lucky enough to know her future husband and also loved him.

"I am just finding it hard to adjust to life here," I answered honestly. "It is very different from my life in Fairwater." I refused to call Fairwater 'home', just as I had been doing ever since I left. Because home is not a physical place...I learned that the day I fell in love with Jesse. 'Home' is somewhere you feel safe, somewhere you _want_ to be...'Home' is where your heart lies. And my heart belonged to Jesse...all of it.

"We are nice people," Josefina laughed, tossing her ebony hair over her shoulder. "You will settle down in no time. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you like...we all owe you a great debt for bringing Jesse back to us. It really has not been the same without him..."

"I enjoy the freedom," I admitted. "I enjoy not having to hide our love from everyone we meet, to...see each other in the daylight hours. But there is a part of me that misses my family. My mother was all I had and now she is hurting because of me. I owe her an explanation yet I can not give her one."

I heart the clink of china on china as Josefina let the dish she was holding fall back into the water before turning to face me.

"You love my brother, don't you?" She demanded, raising both her eyebrows. I looked into her dark eyes, noticing how different they were to Jesse's. His seemed so much deeper...more soulful. Hers were filled with a fiery passion similar to what I possess...or at least what I _used_ to possess.

"So much that it confuses me," I replied.

"Then is that not enough?" She asked, her voice softening slightly. "I know that it hurts, but you did what was necessary to survive. Sometimes to move on with our lives, we have to give up something we hold dear. You gave up your family so that you and Jesse could survive...so that you have the opportunity to start a family of your own. All we need to enjoy life is one person to share everything with, someone we love and who loves us in return...and you have that. Trust me, you will not regret your decision."

Her speech left me near to tears. She was right...it was better this way. Jesse was happier than I had ever seen him and more spontaneous than ever when it came to our relationship and I had never felt so loved in my life.

"Thank you," I whispered, resuming my dish-drying duty. "I needed someone to knock some sense into me. I have been wallowing in self-pity for so long that I failed to see how lucky I am."

Josefina smiled smugly to herself and passed me another dish. As she did this, my eyes drifted past the make-shift calendar (a piece of paper with the day and date scribbled on it) that hung from a nail on the wall. The date...how had I failed to realise? I silently cursed myself for my stupidity and finished my chores before running outside.

The ranch hands were all working, leading horses from stable to stable and sorting horse feed into different bags. He _had_ to be here somewhere...

"Jesse!" I called, holding a hand to my eyes to block out the sun. "Jesse?"

A hand on my shoulder caused me to spin around, but it was only Marianne. I swore quietly and turned to resume my shouting.

"He is on the field with the horses," Marianne revealed. "He was waiting for you to finish helping Josefina but you were taking so long..."

"Oh," I said. Jesse had wanted to take me riding ever since we arrived, but I had been so busy feeling sorry for myself that I never had time. Yet one more thing I had managed to ruin. And horse riding? It was a good excuse to feel his arms around me as I pretended to be frightened, him holding me close so I did not fall.

I started to walk, ignoring the sweltering heat. Even in October, it was almost unbearable. It made me wonder how the ranch hands could work in such conditions..._I_ could barely breathe.

Marianne led the way. While I had been settling in, she had explored the ranch, learning its layout. It was something I should have done myself but I rarely left the house without Jesse and he knew his way around. It really was a marvellous place. The scenery was incredible and there were plenty of places where you could simply sit for hours and watch the shadows change. The ranch hands were all friendly and always helped if you asked for assistance. They had their own chalets which were nothing like any other I had seen. While they did not live in luxury, they did not live in squalor either.

The fields were beautiful; pure, unspoiled green land which stretched out for what seemed like miles. The stables joined onto them housed the horses that were broken and ready to be sent to their buyers and also the horses that belonged to the de Silvas. Jesse's horse had survived Diego's attack and had wandered back to the ranch of its own accord so he was able to ride whenever he liked. I only wish that I had made more time for us so that he could take me with him.

I found Jesse strapping up his white stallion in the stables. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up around his elbows, exposing his forearms. I don't know why, but this sight made me weak. His arms were perfect...muscular, tanned, and slim...just the type of arms you want rocking you to sleep.

He did not see me coming so I was able to sneak up behind him and place a soft kiss on the back of his neck. I could feel him shudder before he turned to face me.

"Good afternoon, _querida_," he greeted, a hint of amusement in his voice. It was only _early_ afternoon...I had not been occupied for _too_ long.

"Sorry I took so long," I apologised. "I just want to repay your family for their kindness. Chores are the least I can do."

Jesse chuckled lightly and brushed his lips against mine.

"You are too kind for your own good," he said. I sighed in delight as he kissed me again, this time massaging my lips gently with his own. I almost lost myself in the kiss when I wrapped my arms around his neck but then I remembered...

"I know what day it is," I told him. He did not want to stop kissing me so his lips remained dangerously close to my own. "It is October fifth."

"I have realised," he purred, moving in for the kill again. But I pulled back, teasing him once again.

"How old are you now?" I asked, though I knew the answer. Marta had told me that Jesse would be turning twenty-one in a matter of days as soon as I arrived at the ranch. Though he did tell me his age, he refused to tell me his birthday. He had told me "I do not want you to waste your time celebrating a date that has no true meaning...save your affections for the dates that count".

"Oh, ancient," he purred, pulling me back into him in one strong yet gentle movement. I felt the kiss throughout my body, igniting small fires in inappropriate places.

When I worked up the strength to push him away I kissed his cheek and leaned into him.

"I'm sorry about the way I have been acting lately," I apologised. "My behaviour has been inexcusable. I am just finding it hard to adjust."

"_Querida_, it doesn't matter," he assured me. His arms were around me and one of his hands was absent-mindedly stroking my hair. It was hard to think about much else when I was in his arms...even more so when my face was pressed against his neck, allowing me to smell his intoxicating natural scent. It was moments like these that assured me I had made the right choice in pursuing a new life with him.

"It does," I argued, my voice sounding whiny for some reason. "All I have done is complain about leaving my family behind, not once thinking of how my words would affect you. I have been so wrapped up in my own self-pity that I almost forgot your birthday! I have been a terrible girlfriend lately and I want to make it up to you."

I felt Jesse chuckle quietly to himself.

"Do you love me?" he asked, seeming only half-serious.

"You know I do," I replied, sounding affronted. I pulled back so that I could see his face and he was smiling down at me.

"Then that is all I need."

I frowned at him and he laughed again.

"Alright...come riding with me. Then we will be even."

How could I refuse him?

We walked out into the sun before mounting the horse. Jesse had to assist me, pushing me up onto the saddle before climbing on behind me. I wore a loose-skirted dress, so it hiked up no further than my knees.

Jesse's arms came around me, pinning me to his body as he held the reins, and I could feel the back of my thighs pressed up against his. It was rather distracting and I tried to shuffle away but when I did, the front of the saddle poked into me uncomfortably.

"Trust me," he whispered, sensing my discomfort. And I did. I leaned back into him and gripped his forearms for support.

I had ridden with Jesse before, but that was before we had declared our love for each other so I was trying hard to ignore the muscles that were pressed against me...and I do not mean the horse's muscles. This time, however, I closed my eyes and concentrated how good it felt to be surrounded by muscle. It also made me feel safe...after all, that muscle was all that kept me from falling off the horse. His hands were level with my abdomen so if I did slip, all he needed to do was grip my waist and hold me steady.

I felt so free as we rode, the wind whipping past us. Jesse would occasionally place a kiss on the back of my neck and I would shiver in his arms. It felt amazing...never before had I felt so at peace with myself. Now I knew why Jesse loved riding so much.

"Why did I not do this before?" I wondered aloud after what seemed like hours of riding. I leaned to the side slightly and turned my head to kiss the side of Jesse's neck.

He whispered to me in Spanish and leaned down to briefly peck me on the lips before gripping the reins and digging his heels into the horse's sides. The stallion suddenly picked up pace and I shifted my grip on Jesse's arms in shock. The scenery was now flitting past us so fast that it was a blur, the colours fusing together.

"Jesse!" I yelled, my legs flailing about, desperately trying to find something to brace myself against. Unfortunately, Jesse's feet occupied the stirrups so I could do nothing but grip the horse hard between my thighs.

"Slow down!" I screamed. By now, I was almost petrified. I was not slipping (Jesse's grip on me prevented that), but I felt as though I was about to fly off.

"Jesse, stop it!"

I could hear him laughing softly in my ear and I pressed myself further into his body, turning my head sideways and closing my eyes. That was when I felt the adrenaline kick in. The fear suddenly turned to exhilaration and I dug my fingernails into Jesse's forearms. I felt the horse suddenly stretch out beneath me and with a rough thump we slowed down slightly before the pace picked up again. I dared to open my eyes and discovered that we had jumped a fence and were closing in on the ranch with alarming speed.

Jesse pulled back on the reins gently and we slowed down, pulling to a stop around the back of the stables. I could not dismount fast enough. As soon as the horse came to a stop, I leapt down, my legs buckling beneath me when I landed. The grass that I fell onto was soft and cushioned my fall.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I demanded when Jesse attempted to help me to my feet. My legs would not stop shaking and I ended up falling on my backside again, this time pulling Jesse down with me. He managed to brace himself in time so that did not crush me.

He did not answer me; he just gazed into my eyes. I found this quite unnerving and bit my lower lip. Why won't he speak?

My breathing returned to normal after a few seconds and I felt...strange. My whole body was tingling and I had the urge to leap to my feet and sprint around the field. I felt so..._alive_.

"I want to do it again," I muttered, still chewing on my lower lip.

"Of course you do," Jesse laughed, leaning down to kiss me softly. "How did it feel?"

"Terrifying at first," I admitted. "Then it felt...exhilarating. I felt incredible. But I was in your arms, so that is a given."

"At first, it _is_ terrifying," he told me. "You don't know where you are going or what will happen to you...so you focus on what you felt before; the safety and the comfort. You yearn for it... Then the shock fades away. For the first time, you feel the wind whipping past you and you open your eyes to observe your surroundings. It is like a new world, all the colours blurring together. You begin to forget the fear and surrender to the new sensations...you feel so powerful, like you can accomplish anything. You feel wild and untamed, like the rules and laws put down by society do not apply to you. In the end you become comfortable with the situation and just let go... That is what it feels like to be free, _querida_, not only in riding, but in life. I just wanted you to experience it, to know that while you may be frightened now, it will all feel better in time."

I closed my eyes and took in what he had said. As usual, he was right. The terror I had experienced when I had been screaming at him to stop had faded and I had felt so powerful.

I pulled his head down and kissed him, sliding my tongue past his lips. I kissed him furiously, pressing my lips against his so hard that I would not have been surprised if they had fused together. I guess the adrenaline had not worn off yet. All I wanted to do was pin him down and kiss him into oblivion but he pulled back when the kiss became too heated.

"Are you ready to go back yet?" he asked, his voice seeming deeper than usual. I nodded slowly in reply, words failing me.

-+-

I watched the sun set from the porch of the de Silvas' house that night. Watching it sink behind the stables was almost as thrilling as watching it sink behind the mountains. The shadows that were cast differed greatly as did the colours that were visible before it vanished from sight.

The ranch hands were finishing the last of the day's work and many of them were already retiring to bed. Marianne had perched herself on a fence post next to the chalets and was observing the workers with great interest. I still do not know why she remains by my side. Her business was impossible to finish (the truth about the witch trials would have to come out for this to happen and that was unlikely to happen in a country that has already abolished witch trials), so I assume that she followed me for the companionship.

When the sun finally set, I made my way back into the house. Mrs. de Silva was talking to Josefina in the kitchen about Mr. de Silva's imminent return and I assumed that the other members of the household were already in bed. Mrs. de Silva smiled sweetly at me as I passed before resuming her conversation. I will admit that I was slightly nervous about the return of Jesse's father. Would he accept me? Would he accept a girl his son (who he thought to be dead) had brought home, despite not even being engaged to her? I found it easier to push these questions from my mind. I had hours' worth of sleep before I had to worry about him.

I peeled my dress off when I finally reached my room and threw it on a nearby chair. It was sticky from sweat and would need a good wash before it could be worn again. I picked up my night dress and carried it into the bathroom where I washed up before slipping it over my head. The nights were always chilly so I wore a full-length night dress which laced around the waist and buttoned around the bust. It also showed off a fair bit of cleavage but I was sharing the house with women and a man who had already seen me topless so it didn't bother me. It was quite elegant and had been donated by Josefina. No doubt it was one of the night dresses she was saving for when she married. Since she was the only de Silva girl who knew that both Jesse and I wished that our relationship was not solely platonic, I assumed that it was a joke on her part.

I was running a brush through my hair when I walked back into my room and realised that I had a guest. He leaned against the wall next to my closed door and looked me up and down once I stepped into view.

"Do you see something you like?" I teased, throwing the brush on to the chair my dress lay on. I could make out no more than his outline but I am pretty sure that Jesse blushed.

I reached into the bathroom and brought the lamp into the main room so that the moonlight was not all we had to see by. I heard Jesse walk towards me as I placed it on the bedside table.

"You look beautiful,_ querida_," he complimented. "You always do. I came to say goodnight."

I felt his hands on my upper arms, his heat causing me to realise how cold I actually was.

"Hmm," I replied, turning to face him. "Just to say goodnight?" I wrapped my arms around his neck and brought his head down so that I could kiss him lightly...applying minimal pressure to leave him wanting more. He groaned in response and I smiled in triumph.

"Don't tempt me," he warned. He was joking, of course, as his light tone suggested, but I could see in his eyes that part of him _did_ want me to tempt him, to kiss him until his resolve weakened and then pull him down onto the bed. I was more than willing to do this but I did not want to take advantage of him...I loved him too much to do that.

"Happy birthday, Jesse," I whispered. This time he was the one who initiated the kiss. His lips were so gentle when they caressed mine, nothing like the hasty kisses we had shared during the day. I could feel everything that he felt in that kiss...his love for me, his desire to protect me and keep me out of harms way, his desire and how much it was killing him, not being able to express his love in a more meaningful way. I moaned into his mouth, the emotions overwhelming me. I had to break the kiss off before I lost my mind.

We were both breathing heavily and I looked up into his eyes. I could see something in them...a flicker of something foreign. His expression seemed pained so I assumed that it was want that I could see. I tried to look away, but I couldn't. It was as though those intelligent dark eyes held a powerful grip on mine. Suddenly, I saw the flicker again...I saw how hard he was trying to hold back his lust. It was conflict I could see, I was sure of that now.

Then he closed his eyes and shook his head, obviously losing whatever battle was going on inside of him. When he kissed me again, it was not gentle...it was hunger-fuelled. My lips felt bruised by the time it was over and he rested his forehead against mine.

"I can't do this anymore, Susannah," he gasped. He sounded pained and all I wanted to do was hold him and make it go away. "I can't carry on lying to myself...I love you so much and I can't keep denying you. I want you...I _need_ you."

To say that this announcement surprised me would have been an understatement. My breath caught in my throat and I stared dumbly at him for what seemed like an age before I was able to articulate my thoughts.

"But...what about marriage?" I stuttered. "I thought you wanted to wait. Jesse, if you are just doing this for me then forget it...I will wait forever if I have to as long as I can be with you eventually. I want to be with you so much, but only if you are willing."

He laughed but there was not a single trace of humor in his voice.

"_Querida_, I know," he assured me. "But the truth is that I have wanted to be with you since the moment I fell in love with you."

I took a moment to process what he had said. Was he being serious? He had to be...Jesse would not joke about something like this...not when he knew how much I wanted it.

"Would you...for me?" I asked. He pulled back and placed a hand on either side of my face.

"For_ us_," he told me.

Then he kissed me again. As if some greater force was pulling them, our bodies were suddenly pressed together. I could feel everything that I had been trying so desperately to fight over the past few days surging through me. Instead of pushing it away this time, I welcomed it with open arms. I noticed for the first time how good his muscles felt pressed up against my chest and soft his voice was when he whispered mysterious Spanish words to me.

My hands, which had been resting on his shoulders, travelled down to the 'V' in his shirt and my fingers began to deftly undo the laces, as they had done last night. My mind seemed to have shut down and I was not aware of what I was doing. All I could concentrate on were his amazing kisses and the way that they made me feel, which was unbelievably beautiful and loved. I could hear his soft sighs mingling with my own when my fingers finally managed to undo the laces on his shirt. I gently pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him before pushing his shirt open and taking in his wonderful chest. His eyes were only half-lidded and he attempted to pull me back down on to of him, but I would not. I remembered all of the wonderful things I had felt last night and how they made me feel. Why should I be the only one to feel those things?

I leaned forward and kissed him, though not on the lips. I pressed my lips against the underside of his jaw before slowly kissing down the side of his neck. I could feel his pulse beating faster than usual beneath my lips. I couldn't help but smile with the knowledge that _I_ was the reason his heart was beating so fast. I could also feel his groans reverberating through him when my lips passed his collarbone. His skin fascinated me...it was so soft (almost as soft as my own) and he naturally possessed the type of tan that I could only dream of obtaining.

My kisses continued down his chest and onto his perfectly defined abdominal muscles, which I felt tense beneath me. He began muttering Spanish words, which seemed to sound more desperate with every inch that I kissed. When my lips reached his navel he shifted beneath me and gripped my shoulders to push me away.

"Enough," he gasped, completely out of breath despite the fact that he had been lying still for the past few minutes. He shifted again, this time moving so that his back was to the pillows and mine was to the end of the bed, then pulled my towards him for another kiss. He made sure that our bodies were close yet far enough apart for him to slip his hands between us and unbutton my nightdress. He began by untying the lace around my stomach then moved on to the buttons which ensured that the garment covered all that it should. As soon as the front of my nightdress was open I felt his warm hands slip inside and caress me. They touched my waist, warming my cool skin as they moved upwards. I gasped when I felt his fingers on the underside of my breasts. A spark seemed to shoot between them and somewhere down below. The feeling was incredible and unlike anything I had ever experienced. This unknown sensation only intensified as he moved his hands to cup my breasts and began to slowly massage them, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples.

I moved my own hands into his hair, gripping it hard as I kissed him. I wanted to show him how good he was making me feel and the only way I could think of doing this was to kiss him senseless. I instantly thought that this was the wrong thing to do when his hands disappeared. My body missed them before my brain realised that they were no longer touching me. Fortunately they were not gone for long and I felt them on my waist as gripped my nightdress and pulled it over my head. I only felt cold for a brief moment before he pulled me into him and rolled so that I was lying on my back with him hovering above me.

I opened my mouth to talk to him, to say anything that would urge him on, but all that came out was a load of garbled nonsense. I am sure that I said _something_, I just don't know _what_. He seemed to like whatever I said, however, as he began to kiss me in the exact same way that I had been kissing him a few minutes ago. His lips had a very curious effect on me. I could feel my brain shutting down, blocking out everything except the pleasure that he was evoking. It was as though I had walked into a dark room and I had no control over the only source of light. It felt incredible, feeling these things and knowing that I had no control over them...I had to reply on Jesse to give me what I wanted...what I _needed_. And he was perfectly willing to give me whatever I requested.

His hands and lips roamed my entire body as if discovering it for the first time (which I suppose they _were_). Every so often he would touch a very sensitive spot and my supplicating moans would encourage him and he would stroke or kiss that spot over and over until I was almost weak from gasping and writhing beneath him. It was as though he was testing my body, trying to find out what I liked. My hands were buried in his hair and every time I moaned my fingers would grip it tighter. I was surprised that he could stand it.

Eventually he ceased his torture and I felt his fingers slip into the top of my underwear and pull them down. I thanked all that was holy that I wore the more revealing stomach-to-mid-thigh underwear rather than the ridiculous full-length underwear. I felt my cheeks flushed when he pulled the underwear from my ankles and cast it aside. I instinctively moved my hands to cover the area that no man had ever seen before...and no other man would _ever_ see. Jesse's hands gently held my wrists and moved my hands.

"No," he whispered. "You are beautiful..."

I shivered when he kissed me once more but not because of the cold. When I felt the rough material of his pants against my bare thighs I realised that he was still fully clothed from the waist down. Somehow this did not seem fair. It only took a few seconds for us both to remove the rest of his clothing. As we lay gazing at each other I had the urge to look down, to see what the married women I used to associate with were always talking about...but I resisted it. After all, it was not the physical details that mattered.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked me, though it was obvious that he already knew the answer. We were both kneeling upright now, facing each other with me pressed as far into him as I could get without brushing against anything.

"Of course I am," I replied, my left hand stroking his hard thigh. I could tell by the way that his eyes fluttered shut that he liked this, so i continued to move my hand until he urged me to lie down. I was about to comply when something began to beg for my attention. I wrapped my arms around him, hoping that it would be enough to chase this feeling away, but it wasn't.

It became clear to me what it was when I felt him against my thigh. It was Paul. Though I had not slept with him I had still...done stuff with him. Not voluntarily, of course, but I couldn't bear the thought that I had experienced such intimate things with Paul but not the man that I loved. There was only one thing I could think of...the one thing Jesse and I had not yet done yet Paul had forced me to do.

I pulled back and looked Jesse in the eyes. I could tell that he was confused, and also worried that I did not want him. I placed one hand on his chest and leaned forward to give him a reassuring kiss. Then I let my hand travel down, over his chest hair and amazing muscles, to the area that had previously been covered by his trousers and his undergarments. He twitched uncomfortably when I rested my fingers on him but relaxed once I kissed him again. I felt more confident and wrapped my fingers around him, gasping when I felt how soft he was. For some reason I had not expected it to be...well, I honestly don't know what I had expected. After all, I have never done anything like this before. When I had touched Paul, I had blocked everything out. I could only vaguely remember what it had felt like but I knew that it was different to _this_. Maybe it was because I was in love with Jesse, or maybe he genuinely felt different, I do not know. All I know is that I enjoyed it when Jesse shuddered upon hearing my gasp.

I slowly began to move my hand, tightening my grip slightly. The moans that I could hear were nothing like the moans I had heard when kissing his chest. These moans seemed more...passion-fuelled. They filled me with a light feeling and the pleasure I could feel within _myself_ began to build up until it was almost unbearable. I needed him _now_.

I let go of him and lay back, resting my head on the pillows once more. Within a few seconds he was lying on tp of me and had pulled the blanket over us to chase away the night's chilly air. He began to stroke my cheek and talk to me (in English), telling me how beautiful I was and how much he loved me, how he would always be there for me to ensure that nothing bad would ever happen to me again. I just told him that I wanted him, that I needed to _feel_ him in every way possible. Then he was there, slowly easing himself into me.

It hurt, I won't deny it. It hurt more than I had been expecting. Though it made sense to me...when I had been touching him, I wondered how it would be possible to make love. I don't mean to sound vulgar, but I wondered how it would fit. It was like the time my mother had explained how babies were made to me. I had seen newborn babies before and I found it hard to accept that a woman would be able to push one out. It hurt when it was time for my monthly bleed and I had to use something to absorb the flow. So I suppose that it was common sense that it would hurt...at least the first time.

I encouraged him by running my hands over every part of his body that they would reach so that he would be unable to pull out even if it was causing me to cry out in pain. Every time that he buried himself within me I could feel something...something other than pain. The pleasure that his moans caused me to feel was enough to make my body move involuntarily, to cause my hips to move up to meet his. The pain was still present, but now I had something else to concentrate on. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out when I felt something moist on my breast. It took me a moment or two to realise that Jesse had taken my nipple into his mouth and was licking it slowly. It was torture but for some reason I did not want him to stop. I verbally begged him to continue, much to my disappointment. I had sworn to myself not to ask for anything from him...only to accept what he was willing to give.

It was all I could do to choke back countless screams. I wanted to let it all out, to let the whole world know how incredible he was making me feel but deep down I knew that we would probably be thrown off the ranch if one of his relatives walked in on us. It became more difficult to keep quite with every thrust and I eventually settled with pulling his head up and kissing him. Of course, this meant that I had to settle with his hand stroking my breast but it was better than alerting the whole house to our actions.

Suddenly, without warning, he began to move faster. It felt incredible at first, then the pain and discomfort returned, drowning out the amazing sensations. I tried desperately to concentrate on them and call them back to the surface but the pain took priority and before I knew it, the pleasure was almost gone. When I felt Jesse shudder above me and cease his rhythmic thrusts I realised that I would never find out what those sensations had been building up to.

He lay down beside me and pulled me into his arms, breathing heavily and sighing contently. I had never been more aware of the emptiness between my legs and how desperately I wanted him there again. Yes, it had been painful but I was willing to do anything to feel that indescribable pleasure again... I felt so pathetic for feeling this way. Women were burned at the stake for much less.

I felt Jesse sigh next to me and pull away so that we could look into each others eyes, both of us lying on our sides.

"That was..." he started, drifting off as he tried desperately to find words to describe it. "Incredible."

It made me happy, to know that he was so satisfied because of me, yet I still felt disappointed that I had not shared the physical side with him. Emotionally, it had been intense. Every thrust was like a declaration of love, a sonnet written only for me. If I was ever in any doubt that he loved me, I would now stand corrected. He had been so gentle...intent on loving me, not on receiving pleasure. Though it was obvious that he had received much pleasure, if his moans were anything to go by.

"But it was not perfect."

I could almost _feel_ my heart cease beating. A terrible burning sensation began to spread through my chest. What did he say?

"If it was perfect, you would have felt incredible, too," he continued. I could hear the pain in his voice. Pain caused by the knowledge that he had felt something incredible but was unable to share it with me.

"Jesse, I did feel incredible," I assured him. "Do you have any idea how loved I felt? How cherished? How honoured that you were willing to be with me?"

"It is not the same," he sighed. I did not bother trying to argue with him. I simply kissed him, a slow, romantic kiss to show him how much I loved him and how much I did not regret this. He chose to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into my mouth and teasing mine. I moaned as the sensations coursed through me once more. The fact that Jesse's hand was moving down my stomach did not help, either. His fingers left a trail of blazing fires on my skin. I was burning up and there seemed to be no way to cool down. I was so slippery with sweat that I did not realise where his hand was until it slipped between my legs. I instinctively squeezed my thighs shut but his hand was already there and his finger was pressed up against a part of me that I did not realise was throbbing before.

I tried to tear my lips away from his but he continued to kiss me as he casually slipped a finger inside of me. I groaned loudly into his mouth. This time it felt so different. The pain was still there from before but it had dulled enough to let the pleasure take priority. I gently scratched his chest with my fingernails as he began to stroke me, firmly pressing his finger against my wall. I had never before realised how rough his hands actually were.

"Jesse," I moaned quietly as he broke off our kiss so that we could catch our breath before he claimed me again. My hips moved, pressing against him as I burned up. How could this feel so incredible? It was a simple action yet I could feel myself becoming lost in what can only be described as perfect bliss thanks to it. I was throbbing around his finger, the pleasure building up to an almost unbearable level. I had to break of the kiss so that I could moan, but I pressed my face into his neck and moaned into his skin to muffle the noise. He was breathing quite heavily himself and I began to wonder why when_ I_ was the one experiencing all of the pleasure.

"Te amo," he whispered into your ear. "It means 'I love you'."

Then I exploded. That is the only way I can describe it. I felt it through my entire body, originating from where his finger was stroking. I screamed into his neck, the sound muffled sufficiently. I am sure that he felt my release because he removed his finger and pulled me into his arms.

"There..." he whispered. "Perfect."

I leaned into him, holding on to that amazing feeling for as long as I could. I loved him so much...I knew that without a doubt now. He was not satisfied until I had experienced the bliss that transcended what should have been physically possible. If that was not love then I did not know what was.

"_Querida_," he spoke, his voice wavering slightly.

"Mm?" was my oh-so-intelligent reply.

"Would you...would you love me forever...if you could?" His question caught me off-guard. He knew that I would and I told him as much.

"Would you remain with me, no matter what happens?"

"Of course I will."

I felt him shift and pull me closer into him.

"I love you, Susannah Simon. I know that I will never be the man that you deserve, but I want to spend the rest of my life trying to be. I know that I will probably never make it but I will be damned if I don't try my hardest. Susannah..._querida_...will you spend the rest of your life with me? Will you marry me?"

I suddenly stopped tracing patterns on his bare chest with my index finger. Why was he asking? Surely he knew that we could never marry? Why would he ask me to do something that he knew I would never be able to do?

Then it hit me. He knew that. He knew that and he was still asking me. It was not a matter of what we _could_ do...it was a matter if what we _would_ do. It was hope... hope that one day we _would_ be able to marry.

I did not even have to think about my answer.

"Yes."

Because if we didn't have hope...what _did_ we have?

**AN - I hope that sounded alright...it was the first real scene like that I have ever written :). **

**A HUGE thank you goes out to my AMAZING reviewers (Secret Agent Angel, you have no idea how much I smiled when I read your review :)). **

**Updates will be less frequent between now and January...I have some important exams in January that I need to revise for. Thanks for understanding :). **


	17. Losing Respect

**Cursed **

I woke feeling strangely content. I was curled up against something warm and hard from which I could hear a dull thudding noise. The warmth I could feel radiating from whatever it was only made me feel even drowsier and something soft and silky tickled my nose. It took me a moment or two to realise that this object was moving gently.

Oh...

I sighed contently and buried my face further into Jesse's hard chest. My head must have slipped off the pillows as I slept and my nose was now level with his chest with my head resting on his arm. Our bodies were turned to the side, facing one another and I could feel his chin on the top of my head.

When I shifted I felt him move, too, and his arm tightened its grip on me as he pressed his lips against the top of my head.

"Good morning,_ querida_," he whispered. I could hear his smile when he spoke and he had every right to be smiling.

I tried to reply but all I could manage to say was "mmmrgh". What it means, I do not know. I guess that I was still lost in the events of the previous night. It had been...phenomenal, to say the least.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice warm and caring.

"Elated," I admitted. "I can't stop thinking about last night and how wonderful you made me feel."

I shuffled up the bed so that my head was resting on the pillow correctly and I was face-to-face with Jesse. He did not reply, he simply stroked my cheek with his thumb before gently pressing his lips against my forehead.

"I stand by everything I said last night," he whispered. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I will find a way for us to marry even if it kills me."

I smiled at his words though they did not have their usual effect on me. Instead of feeling unbelievably happy, I felt indifferent. Because in my eyes we already_ were_ married. Marriage is simply words that are spoken before a priest...what we experienced last night transcended all of that. I knew without a doubt that he would never leave me and that was enough for me.

I never wanted the moment to end. I just wanted to lay there in his arms forever, knowing that I was perfectly safe (and happy). I wanted to feel his muscles against my soft skin and to hear his heart beating steadily in his chest. But, with a kiss (and a promise of many more to come), Jesse climbed out of the bed and began to retrieve his clothes.

I will admit that my eyes lingered on certain parts of him a little longer than they should have. But it was dark last night and I was unable to see how truly wonderful his chest was, how every hair served to emphasise the ridges of muscle on his torso and how incredibly muscular his legs were. Never before had I realised how lean his body was and I recalled how good it had felt when my legs were wrapped around it, feeling his hard muscles against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. It made me want to pull him back into bed, but an unfamiliar twinge down below told me that I should wait a while before pulling him anywhere.

When he heard my muffled groan he turned his attention towards me and sat on the edge of the bed. Fortunately he had found his trousers and had managed to put them on.

"_Querida_, are you alright?" he asked, an expression of genuine concern on his face.

I nodded and smiled lovingly, sliding one of my hands beneath my shins (I was kneeling) to prevent myself from running it down his still-bare chest.

"It's just a little uncomfortable," I told him. "It will pass. And don't you dare start feeling guilty...it doesn't even hurt, but if it did it would be a price I would gladly pay to give myself to you."

"You gave yourself to no-one," he whispered as he leaned in to kiss me. "It was a moment _shared_."

His smile almost ruined the kiss but he made up for it by gently stroking my hip with his thumb. I shivered as little sparks shot to various parts of my body...parts I was never really aware of until last night.

It was strange how different I felt now, how at peace I felt with everything. It is strange, I know, but it is true. When I lightly traced my fingers down Jesse's chest I now understood the feelings that coursed through me and I was able to control them to a certain extent. They no longer frightened me.

He groaned in response when my fingers moved over his silky chest hair, and nibbled very softly on my bottom lip.

"Please," he half-begged. "Your touch drives me crazy."

"I could say the same about yours," I teased, pecking him lightly on the cheek.

He blushed and turned away from me in an attempt to hide the effect that my words had. I smiled to myself, pleased that he was not the only one who could tease and shuffled back on the bed, covering myself with the blanket.

"You should...um...take a warm bath," he suggested. "I have heard that it...helps."

* * *

The next couple of weeks were amazing. Jesse's family were ecstatic when we gave them news of our engagement and Mrs. de Silva kept telling me how much she couldn't wait to have me as a daughter. I was happy just spending time with Jesse. And we made the most of our time together, making love at every opportunity. It became less painful every time until there was no pain at all, just that amazing sensation. We would go riding almost every day and he showed me how to ride solo...properly. I never was good on my own.

Marianne began to act strangely but I assumed that it was something a living person could not understand, so I let her be. All day every day she would sit on the same fence post and watch the workers go about their business with a distant look on her face. She never once asked for my help so I assumed that she did not want any.

Jesse's father returned a few days after we announced our engagement to Jesse's family. He was a strict man though he loved to laugh and took quite a shine to me. When he discovered that his son was alive he was more relieved than angry and seemed to want to spend so much time catching up with him. I was happy to see this but Mrs. de Silva thought that it was unfair for Jesse to be 'stolen' from me so we told him of our engagement and he was ecstatic. Jesse was more relieved than I can say.

Looking at Mr. de Silva, I can see where Jesse gets his looks from. Though the father is nowhere near as handsome as the son, he is classically handsome and Jesse obviously received the best genes from both of his parents.

My own father visited more than usual; mostly to deliver information about my mother and the progress of the search crew she had sent out to look for me. Apparently they were searching New Zealand now, which is on the other side of the world to Spain, so I assumed that we were safe for the time being.

"I must admire your bravery," my father told me. We were in my bedroom and I observed him with interest as he leaned against the dresser. "You are coping with this far better than I would have imagined."

I blushed slightly and shifted my position. I was sitting on my bed with my feet tucked beneath me, facing my father. My mother would usually scold me for sitting in such a way but this was my father and I had known him my whole life.

He smiled as my cheeks burned and chuckled softly to himself. It always strikes me as odd when he does this because he died when he was only twenty-seven and he still looks like he did that fateful day. His dark brown pants and ochre shirt were as weathered as they had always been, his dark brown hair as thick as my own and his hazel eyes gleamed with youth and good humour. It was unnerving to think that my father looked only six years older than my fiancé. It was strange enough to think that my own father seemed to be almost ten years older than myself. I do not know why he remains here though I am sure that he does. Lately he has been smiling secretively at me as if he knew something that nobody else did...some amazing secret.

"I think I have Jesse to thank for that," I spoke. When I looked up my father's expression had changed. It seemed more serious.

"I know that you love him, Suzie," he sighed. "And I do not object to the two of you giving yourselves to each other before marriage, but there are factors that you aren't considering. Such as pregnancy. What would you do if you fell pregnant out of wedlock?"

"I would be proud that Jesse is the father," I replied, despite being mortified that my father knew about my sex life. I could feel my cheeks flushing but I am sure that I managed to prevent myself from turning crimson again. "And if Jesse's family are unable to accept our child, we will move on and find somewhere new to live."

My father gave an exasperated sigh and pushed himself away from the dresser to sit beside me on the bed.

"Suze, you can't just run away every time things get too much for you," he said. "You have a great life here...a _free_ life. Don't turn your back on it."

I leaned into him and he placed an arm around me.

"I'm happier than I have ever been," I admitted. "Though I still feel like I am missing something."

"I love you, Suzie," he muttered. "You are my little girl and I would do anything to ensure your happiness. But I am afraid that you will just have to wait this one out. This time...it is like an illness, an infection; it will get worse before it gets better. Though I have faith in the belief that everything will turn out just fine."

I closed my eyes and tried to believe his words. Oh how I wanted to believe them. But over the past few days there has been this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that something just isn't right.

My father left me to think on my own for a while. He did that a lot, said something very confusing then dematerialize without an explanation. But I was used to his strange behaviour by now.

I wandered out onto the ranch at about midday, tired of my thoughts and the headaches they induced. Marianne sat on her post as usual and watched one of the workers haul a bag of horse feed towards the stables. I can't say that I blame her for staring...even I looked twice. He was far too good-looking to be working on a ranch.

Having nothing better to do, I walked over to the fence and placed a hand on Marianne's arm.

"Are you alright?" I asked her, though the answer was obvious. Her expression was distant and I could tell that she was fighting back tears.

She whipped her head around and sighed tiredly when she saw that it was me.

"I'm fine," she assured me, though her voice broke so I chose to ignore her.

"Marianne, you aren't fine," I pointed out. "For the past two weeks you have been distant. You have sat on this fence post all day, staring off into the distance. I am your friend...you can talk to me."

She blinked, closing her eyes for a little longer than was normal, and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. I wanted to say something to comfort her, any words of kindness, but what _could_ I say? Besides, every time I open my mouth the wrong thing usually comes out.

I tore my eyes away from her and watched as the cute worker exited the stables and walked out into the centre of the ranch, waving when he saw that I was looking at him. I feebly waved back and watched as a very young girl (no more than three years old) toddled out to meet him. He swept her up in his arms and she smiled. I could hear her laughter from where I was standing. I felt a sudden rush of sympathy for him. It could not be easy too look after a small child on your own while working to earn enough money to feed two people. But they seemed to be managing; the girl wore fairly expensive-looking clothes (though the man wore the typical scuffed clothes of a ranch hand) and she seemed content.

"Do you remember what I told you the day we met?" Marianne spoke, snapping me from my reverie. She did not wait for an answer to her question before continuing. "About my death? Well, the events did not transpire over such a short amount of time. I even lied about when I died...I was dead for sixteen whole months before I came to you, not a few weeks as I told you...I lied because I was ashamed that I had followed a man who was not aware of my presence for such a long time. I met James Winchester at a market in France. I was in France on vacation and he was a the market on behalf of his employer. I did not intend to fall in love with him. We talked a lot that day and believed that we would never see each other again. But when I returned to England, I met him again. I could not believe that he lived in the same village that I did. He worked for a farmer on the outskirts of the village and we began to see each other behind my parents' backs. I loved him so much and he promised me that he would spend forever loving me in return. We were a lot like Jesse and yourself...young, reckless, in love. When my father discovered that I had been dating a peasant he became very angry. He forced me into an engagement with a family friend. But I discovered soon after that I was pregnant...pregnant with James' child."

For the first time since she had began to speak a single tear trickled down her rosy cheek, finking into the crease where her lips met her cheek.

"My father relented and allowed me to marry James," she continued. "He knew that the shame of having his aristocratic daughter marry a peasant would be far less than the shame that would fall upon the family if I were to give birth to a child that was not my husband's. I gave birth to a baby girl. She was the most beautiful child I have ever seen...she had her father's sandy hair and my dark blue eyes. We were a family for a whole year, living in the Americas before he returned...my ex-fiancé. He was obsessed with me. I assume that he was angry because I had called off our wedding...he was quite vain. He threatened me and my family, telling me that he would kill them if I did not marry him. It became worse over the course of a few months and eventually I confronted him. I punched him and told him never to bother us again...that was the day Errol Quinn came to our village. I was walking through the village when the witchfinders took me. I was executed three days later with no trial. It was a horrible time, saying goodbye to my family. James was torn up. There was no consoling him. Our daughter was too young to truly understand what had happened but she would ask James where I was, when 'mommy' was coming home. James went in a downhill spiral over the first month. He had left his job when we married and when I died he had no money so he was forced to sell the house. He took the money and our daughter and left in search of work. He found the man responsible for my death and killed him. I watched him do it and I did not bat an eyelid. I did not blame him for what he had done to me...I blamed him for what he had done to my family. I followed James as he searched for work and eventually ended up in Fairwater. I was confused, even though I had been dead for over a year. I did not understand why he was unable to see me and sunk into despair. I discovered the Shadowland when I was in Fairwater and I spoke to other people like me. They told me to find a mediator and allow them to help me...that was when I found you. Susannah, you have taught me a lot. Seeing you and Jesse together taught me not to dwell on the bad times...to remember the days James and I spent together, not curse the days we spend apart. I was finally at peace with myself, but now..."

The tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now and I pulled her into a half-embrace.

"Nothing has changed, Marianne," I whispered. "It is a different place but everything else remains the same."

She lifted her head from my shoulder and looked into my eyes with her own tear-stained oceanic orbs. They glittered like the surface of the sea as she sniffled and looked over to the workers.

"I resigned myself to the fact that I would not see them again," she muttered, her gaze still fixed on the workers. "Yet I see them together every day I spend on this ranch."

Suddenly I snapped my head around to where the cute worker and his daughter stood and realisation dawned on me.

"Oh, Marianne," I gasped.

It was James...it had to be. His sandy hair was ruffled in a messy yet attractive manner and his strong-looking forearms held his daughter to him in a very protective way. There was a certain sadness in his eyes that I had not seen before. It was as though his whole world had shattered long ago and he was only just starting to piece it back together.

Marianne had turned back into me and was sobbing uncontrollably. The tears that soaked my shoulders evaporated almost instantly...after all, her tears weren't_ real_.

I don't know what made me do it. Like I said before, it was none of my business. I had no way of empathising with her. Whenever Jesse became hurt or upset it would tear me up inside and I would do whatever was possible to take that pain away. I could not begin to imagine the torment that she went through, seeing James' pain (knowing that she was the reason for it) and not being able to do anything about it.

Marianne sunk to her knees as I watched her husband and her child slowly walk off to the de Silva's very small guest house. It was more of a guest 'chalet' than a house...one bedroom, a very small kitchen and a bathroom. I assume that Mrs. de Silva allowed James to stay in this chalet since he was the only worker who had a child with them.

I did not need to think about what I did next. It seemed only natural. I could hear Marianne's breaking voice shouting at me to stop but my legs continued to move. They carried me across the ranch, hot on the Winchesters' heels, until I reached the now-closed door of their chalet. I did not bother knocking.

As soon as I pushed the door open I could see that a child lived here. A doll with dirty, ragged hair lay on the main bed in the corner. The sheets were clean but had a distinct worn quality about them. They were immaculate compared to the sheets of workers back in Fairwater. Men's clothes were strewn across a makeshift bed which had been set up on the floor so I assumed that James allowed his daughter to sleep on the more comfortable main bed. It was touching, really, considering the work that ranch hands carry out. To think that James would work hard all day and return to this chalet to rest his aching body on such a crude apparatus just so that his young daughter could be comfortable.

I could smell freshly baked bread (no doubt brought down by Mrs. de Silva) when I came within range of the kitchen. It smelled so sweet that my stomach gave a greedy rumble.

"Mr. Winchester?" I spoke tentatively. His back was turned to me when I spoke and he whipped around, slightly surprised. "Pardon me for the intrusion."

"Susannah, right?" he asked, cutting in before I could continue. His southern accent was thick and his voice gentle and soft but by no means boyish...it was about as deep as Jesse's. "Mr. de Silva's fiancée?"

He smiled in an attempt to remove any insult that his cutting in may have implied and when he did I could see how Marianne would have fallen so hard for him. He was obviously no older than late twenties though his face was lined slightly, no doubt due to stress. His eyes twinkled with intelligence and good nature and his sandy hair only emphasised the many shades of blue in his irises.

"Please," I laughed nervously. "Call me Suze. Only Jesse insists on calling me by my full first name."

Silence fell upon us after he chuckled softly in reply. How was I to go about this?

I felt a lingering presence behind me and I did not bother to turn around. The hairs on the back of my neck were raised so I knew that this visitor was not a member of the living. She said nothing as she walked around me to stand beside James. I noticed that he shivered slightly and turned away from me as though ashamed to show his face. Marianne shook her head softly and I could see the effort she was putting into remaining composed. She seemed torn between expressing her joy at seeing her beloved once more and weeping from the realisation that she would have to face the pain of seeing him suffer again.

I believe it was Marianne's attitude that finally persuaded me to speak.

"James, have you ever heard of a Mediator?" I asked, holding my hands by my stomach and casually picking at a flake of dry skin I found beneath one of my fingernails.

"I can't say I have," he replied, turning to face me once more. "Are you hungry? Because Josefina brought some bread over..."

He made to walk past me but I reached out and gripped his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He seemed to want nothing more than to put as much distance as was possible between him and where he had previously been standing.

"James, I am a Mediator," I blurted out. "You could say that I am a liaison between the living and the dead...I help those who have passed on set straight whatever business they left unfinished so that they can move on to their next stage in life, whatever that may be."

I took a deep breath and waited for a response. I did not get one but James turned to face me, his eyes fixed intently on my own.

"I know that this seems almost impossible but I assure you that I speak the truth." My voice sounded pleading but I could tell that I was a few words away from being thrown out. "I know that you met a girl called Marianne at a French market. I know that you fell in love and married despite being from different classes." I looked over to the little girl who had just that moment walked in from the bathroom. "I know that she is the daughter you both had and that you were only allowed to marry because of Marianne's pregnancy. I know that she was executed as a witch because of an ex-fiancé and I know that you killed him before leaving with your daughter."

He wrenched his arm from my grasp and turned to pick up his daughter.

"Daddy, what is happening?" she asked, gripping his shirt collar in her tiny hands. James glared at me and kissed her on the head before assuring her that everything was fine.

"What do you want?" he demanded. "Why are you bringing her up? Don't you think that we have suffered enough?"

Marianne slumped against the far wall and buried her head in her hands, muttering whispered apologies to nobody in particular.

"Marianne followed you," I explained. "She followed you all the way to Fairwater before she realised that you would never know that she was there. That was when she found me."

I paused to allow time for either James, Marianne or their daughter to reply but the only sound that was audible was the shouting of the workers outside and Marianne's hushed apologetic words.

"She helped me," I continued. "She helped me face up to my feelings for Jesse, she helped me when_ my_ obsessive suitor tried to tear us apart and she helped me when I rescued Jesse and was accused of witchcraft for it. She has been one of the best friends I have had and I wanted to repay her. She was torn up when she found you here...she thought that she would never see you again and was only just becoming able to deal with that."

James still did not reply and I did not force him to. I waited for what seemed like hours as he hugged his daughter and shushed her questions ("Who is she, daddy?" "Does she know mommy?" "I thought mommy went to heaven."). I could see his large hands shaking as he held back what must have been a raging torrent of emotions. The girl just sat there quietly, rubbing her father's arm and telling him not to cry. It was enough to melt my heart and part of me began to regret speaking to him. But a stronger part of me knew that I had done the right thing. Marianne needed this...and I owed her a hell of a lot.

"I used to be able to feel her," James whispered. I lifted my head to look at him. "When I first began to work after her death. At first I thought that it was just wishful thinking and that it was the memories that we shared. So I ran, but everywhere that I went, her presence would follow. I didn't know what to think. Then when I left Fairwater, it was suddenly gone. Part of me was glad but I wanted to hold on to every part of her. I wanted to feel her with me. I felt her again when you arrived. And when I heard that you were from Fairwater, I began to wonder."

He placed his daughter on the floor and pushed himself further back on to the bed. I noticed that Marianne had stood up and sank down next to him.

"She is here," I told him. "I wanted to give her a chance to speak to you again."

He nodded appreciatively and ran a hand through his mid-length hair. Beside him, Marianne twitched and reached out to touch him but pulled her hand away at the last minute.

"I can't do this," she whispered. "I can't put myself through this again."

I sighed and tugged on my over tight bodice. How Jesse's sisters have survived so long in this heat baffles me.

The moist air made it almost unbearable to breathe and the fact that I was choking down tears did not seem to help. I would occasionally twitch as a bead of sweat rolled down my back which only added to my discomfort.

"Ishtar," Marianne spoke. "My little girl." She had crouched down beside her daughter and passed her hand through her sandy hair.

"Ishtar," I repeated, as though I needed to confirm James' belief in me. "Such a beautiful name. Her mother named her?"

James laughed a soft, joy-filled laugh.

"Yes. It had some sort of meaning though I don't remember exactly what it is...something about a goddess. Marianne loved mythology."

The girl in question chuckled in agreement as she rose to her feet and moved next to her husband, gazing at him with the same adoring look in her eyes that I saw so often in Jesse's. For the first time I could feel what she felt; the love that she felt for James, the hidden delight that she felt because of his unexpected appearance.

"She loves you so much," I told him, the words falling from my lips. "I know that she is reluctant to express herself but I can tell how happy she is to see you again."

James' large hands brushed through his hair again and he muttered unintelligible words under his breath.

"I...I bought a place," he muttered, turning towards the window and fixing his eyes on a spot three inches to the right of Marianne. "I got it cheap about a month ago but I needed more money to start it up. It has nice farmland; it's in a respectable area. There are other families nearby with children Ishtar's age...I thought it would be a fresh start for us. We could finally be in control of our lives again."

Marianne placed a hand on James' legs and he gasped, his eyes racing to the spot she had touched.

"I am so proud of you," she whispered, her cheeks shining from the tears she had recently shed.

I relayed her message to James and he laughed, placing his hand over hers.

"I can feel her," he gasped incredulously. "I can feel a hand on my leg. Though my own hand feels nothing but air."

A solitary tear betrayed my indifferent appearance and I quickly wiped it away before anyone could see my composure falter.

"Only Mediators can interact with the dead," I explained. "You can feel her but you won't be able to touch her."

But he seemed to be doing his damned hardest to _act_ like he was touching her. He curled his hand around hers which sent Marianne into another fit of tears. I could tell that she wanted to lean into him, to hold him and imagine that he was holding her but she restrained herself.

"Tell him that my death wasn't his fault," she whimpered. She raised a shaking hand and cupped the side of his face, wiping away the few tears that had broke free. "Tell him to take good care of Ishtar and to let me go. I don't want him to forget me, but I don't want him to focus on the past...I want him to make new memories."

I relayed her tearful message and James muttered a reply. I did not hear it but Marianne obviously did and she giggled in a childish manner. I watched them together for a moment as Marianne kissed him on the cheek and began to run her hands over his tanned muscular arms and I realised that this was a moment to be spent alone.

I managed to exit the guest house without disturbing them and I made for the main house, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. I saw so much back there...what could have been between Jesse and I. What _would_ have been had we remained in Fairwater. Yet somehow this did nothing to suppress the urge to return.

I could hear raised voices when I approached the staircase. Masculine voices. It was not really any of my business but when I heard my name I was compelled to eavesdrop.

I instantly recognised one of the voices as Jesse's and the other was deeper and much older...no doubt his father's. I could tell by the tone of their voices that Mr. de Silva was angry and Jesse seemed frustrated and helpless. This was a side of Jesse that I had never seen. Even when he was locked up in that awful cell, he remained strong (with the exception of the night I freed him). Yet here he was, almost in despair because of an argument with his father.

I told myself that this was the reason I continued to listen.

"I brought you up to be a respectable gentleman!" Mr. de Silva hissed. "Not to treat women as though they were common whores!"

There was a bang, which I assumed was someone slamming their fist against something hard. The rattle that followed made me believe that it was Mrs. de Silva's china cabinet.

"If you knew me, if you knew _us_, then you would know that I treat Susannah with the respect and love that she deserves!" Jesse shouted. The ferocity in his voice shocked me and I was forced to grip the doorframe for support.

"Then do the decent thing and marry her! You have been engaged for three weeks now and you have not started to even_ think_ about a wedding. And what of her parents? Why will you not invite them to our house? Are you ashamed of us? Ashamed of _them_? Or are you just being rude? Susannah is a good girl and I won't watch my son treat her like some harlot!"

This time I heard furniture being moved and heavy footsteps before the arguing continued.

"Don't ever mention Susannah's name in the same sentence as one of those...women!" Jesse was so angry now that his voice could be heard clearly. "She is no_ puta_ and I certainly do not treat her like one! Her parents do not know me well enough. That is why they can not meet you."

I was foolish to think that the sudden silence meant that the dispute was over, that issues had been resolved. When Jesse's father replied, I involuntarily gasped and fell backwards onto the floor.

"Don't know you well enough? _Don't know you well enough_? Are you trying to say that they do not know that you are engaged?"

There was a pause and I used the opportunity to pull myself to my feet and press myself closer to the door.

"Hector, did you not have the common courtesy to ask her parents for her hand in marriage? _Mi hijo...Dios..._Hector, I am ashamed of you."

I opened my mouth to reply before realising that I was not part of this rather heated discussion. Defending Jesse has become a reflex action. He was part of me and I would not allow anyone to talk to me like that. Not only was it upsetting but it was also uncalled for.

"_Padre_, if you knew of the circumstances..." Jesse spoke, his voice faltering and betraying his confidence. I could tell that his father's words had cut him deep. Jesse respects his father immensely, that much I know. To think that marrying me was more important to him than his father's respect touched me in a way I did not think was possible.

"I love her," he continued. "I love her so much that I would do anything for her. I know that we can never truly be married because we will never get her parents' blessing but I just want to have hope...hope that somewhere out there, there is a way that we can be married."

I did not wait around to hear his father's reply...I ran as fast as I could up the stairs and did not stop until I reached my room.

The heavy door slammed shut behind me, the resulting sound echoing in my head. I sunk down onto the bed, the bed that Jesse and I had made love on many times, buried my head in my hands and cried. Just like that...I cried.

This is not how it was meant to be. Jesse and I should be happy together, his family should accept us, and we should be settling down and preparing to live the rest of our lives together. Yet here we were, trying and failing to make it work.

Would we end up like Marianne and James; so in love yet so far apart? That was not a life I wished for anyone. But was our relationship really worth all this pain? Was it worth Jesse losing his father's respect? The respect of the only man whos opinion mattered to him?

I could feel my tears soak the palms of my hands, the salty drops seeping between my fingertips. I barely registered the sound of the lock on my door. I did not even realise that I had company until I felt arms around me and heard a soothing voice whispering sweet nothings into my hair.

"Ssh," Jesse whispered. "_Querida_, please don't cry."

I leaned into him, gladly accepting the comfort that he gave despite a little voice in my head telling me to pull away. I was selfish...I did not care if it would cause another argument between him and his father or if it would send me into a fresh fit of debilitating sobs. At that moment all I wanted, all I _needed_, was him.

"Ssh," Jesse repeated. "_Querida_, tell me what is wrong."

I told him everything. I told him about my meeting with Marianne's husband and daughter, about my eavesdropping on his argument and I told him of all my thoughts and feelings. I loved how we were always so open and honest with each other and how intently we listened to each other. Jesse took in every word that I spoke (though I am sure most of them were almost unintelligible due to my tears) and stroked my hair gently, occasionally whispering beautiful Spanish words to urge me on.

"Things will get better," he assured me.

"No," I replied. "I have been telling myself that ever since I rescued you. But the truth is that things have gone from bad to worse."

He did not reply to this so I assumed that his thoughts were the same.

The room seemed so empty to me at that moment. It felt as though Jesse and I were the only solid matter in the vicinity. For a moment, it felt like how it should...just me and him, together. But, as always, this feeling did not last and I could soon see every chip in the wooden dressers and every minute tear in the overly extravagant wallpaper. A terrifying thought flickered into my consciousness and I shuddered upon realising what it meant. It was too terrifying to even consider but I was unable to shake the feeling that it was the right thing to do.

Jesse sensed my sudden discomfort and pulled me closer to him, stroking my bottom lip gently before capturing my lips with his own. I shuddered involuntarily from the sudden contact, feeling the kiss in places that would only enhance the pleasure. Suddenly my bodice seemed too tight and it only took Jesse a moment to rip it from me and allow my body room to breathe.

Our current position was rather uncomfortable so I moved, straddling him, so that I was able to kiss him freely with no limbs getting in the way. He moaned deeply as I pressed my breasts against his chest and I used the opportunity to slip my tongue into his mouth. He responded readily, kissing me with so much passion that I felt my body go flaccid and I collapsed in his arms. His hands slowly rubbed my back, so far away from where I wanted them. I could feel my control slipping away and I tried to push him backwards but he suddenly tore himself away from me and closed his eyes.

"_Padre_ was right," he panted. "I should not kiss you in this way."

I groaned in frustration and attempted to turn his head towards mine but it was futile.

"Jesse, you have done a lot more than just kiss me," I reminded him, taking one of his limp hands and pressing it against my bare stomach. I felt him sigh beneath me, though no sound escaped his lips. He tried so hard to be guarded but the truth was that I could read him like the books he loved so much. "And I happen to like it when you kiss me this way."

I smiled playfully and moved his hand further north, the muscles in my stomach twitching beneath his calloused fingers. He felt so good.

"If you don't want to kiss me then just touch me..."

By now, his fingertips were just brushing the underside of my breast and I noticed a considerable change in his breathing patterns. Suddenly, his eyes shot open and he turned towards me.

"_Dios_," he muttered, gazing at me with that adoring look in his eyes. I knew that he was unable to resist the moment his lips found their way to my breast and his free arm came behind me to support me as I leaned back.

It was strange, the way my body reacted to his lips. He seemed to know all the right places to kiss and just the right spots to graze his teeth over. I instantly regretted asking him to touch me. I had forgotten how much of a tease he could be.

I was panting and groaning by the time he pushed me back onto the bed.

Some time later we were both curled up together beneath the blanket and I was as exhausted as I could be. Jesse was breathing steadily beside me and the sound of his breathing soothed me considerably.

It seems strange how that feeling crept up on me again...the idea that I did not want to consider. It also seems strange how at that exact moment, it did not seem like such a bad idea. After all, it meant that we could marry and that I could see my mother again.

I did not even think about it before I spoke.

"I need to go back," I whispered. Jesse's heat was making me drowsy so my voice was hushed.

"Back?"

"Back to Fairwater," I whispered.

I felt his chest cease moving against mine and his eyes searched my own, trying to figure out the joke. But I was not joking. We were lying on our sides, facing each other, so it was easy for me to nuzzle his neck affectionately. I suppose I did it to weaken his defence.

"_Querida_, you know we can't," he told me. "You know what would happen to us if we were to return."

"I know. But we need to do this. What if my mother's men find us? We can't spend the rest of our lives worrying about that. And our engagement...your father is angry because we are making no effort to marry. I know a priest in Fairwater. He is a mediator like us and I am sure that he would marry us. If we do this, we could marry and I could talk to my mother and assure her that I am safe and happy. There is a valley where people who would be accused of witchcraft should they ever enter the village live. I have friends there so we would not have to venture into the village until it is absolutely necessary."

Jesse pulled me closer into him and held me in a delightfully posessive manner. His hands were not moving along my back as they usually did when he held me this way so I knew that the idea frightened him.

"_Querida_, don't do this," he begged. "Please, I can't lose you again. Can we not just remain here and be happy?"

I sighed and stroked his cheek.

"We're _content_, not happy," I pointed out. "And what if I fall pregnant? Your father would disown you. Please...this is something we need to do."

I felt something wet hit the thumb that was carefully stroking his cheek and I pulled back to see that he was crying softly. His eyes pleaded with me not to go through with this. It was enough to break my heart but I wasn't about to let his tears sway me.

"Put it this way...I am returning to Fairwater regardless. If you were to come with me and make me the happiest woman in the world by marrying me then that is your decision."

The few tears that he shed had dried on his cheek beneath my fingertips. I would be lying if I were to say that the prospect of returning home did not terrify me. After all, it meant being close to Paul once again. I had no doubts that he would try something if he got wind of my return. But this was something I had to do.

"When shall we leave?" He asked, sighing in defeat.

I couldn't help the smile that my lips twisted into. Because despite the danger, something good awaited us in Fairwater…something _great_.

I only wish that I knew the _amount_ of danger that awaited us...

**AN - It took me so long to get that written. It was the James bit...I got halfway through and just couldn't write it, but it needed to be done... **

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed :). I was so nervous about last chapter (and apologies for the amount of mistakes in the last quarter...spell/grammar check apparently didn't pick them up. **

**Now please review again :). **

**I probably won't get a chance to work on the next chapter until after my exams in January (about a month away). **

**Happy holidays and happy new year to everyone! **


	18. Home

**Cursed **

The boat ride back to Fairwater seemed somehow colder than the journey to Spain. And I do not just mean in terms of weather. Jesse seemed distant and hardly spoke to me for the first twenty-four hours. In fact, it was nearing on eve of our arrival by the time I worked up the courage to approach him myself.

He remained confined to our quarters for most of the journey, occasionally wandering out onto the deck for fresh air. We shared a bed in our cabin but even then he seemed distant. He would hold me, sometimes stroking my hair until I fell asleep, but he would not whisper to me or appear interested in making love. Every time I touched him he would freeze and I do not know why.

We were mere hours away from Fairwater Valley when I approached him. He was sitting at a small desk in our cabin and rested his head absent-mindedly on one hand.

"Jesse?" I spoke. My voice did not echo in the empty room, which only unnerved me. I hate boats.

Jesse did not respond to my flat voice, not even with a small twitch. When I began to walk over to where he sat the floorboards creaked beneath my step and the awful noise was accompanied by the ominous groaning of the ship as the waves gently rocked it.

I paused when I reached the chair and sighed in defeat. I was not used to seeing Jesse like this, not after the weeks of pure bliss that we had lived in.

When speaking his name for a second time did not work I reached out and placed a hand on each of his arms before lowering my head so that I could kiss where his neck met his shoulder. I smiled when my lips made contact, overjoyed that I had finally been able to kiss him. But my joy was short-lived as Jesse suddenly stood up and started to curse in Spanish.

"Susannah, don't..." He cried, anguish visible in his trembling voice. "Just don't..."

I don't know what angered me more, the fact that he had been avoiding me or the fact that he had raised his voice at me. Whatever it was, it caused rage to bubble up inside of me.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Jesse," I yelled, marching over to where he stood. "I thought that I was kissing the man I love. But I must have entered the wrong cabin...can you tell me where I could find him?"

At least this elicited a response. He turned to face me, an expression of disbelief etched on his face.

"_Querida_, what are you-?" He began, but I was not quite finished.

"Oh, you know fine well what I am talking about," I screamed. "You have been like this ever since I mentioned returning to Fairwater...ever since I mentioned marriage. Why are you even here? I did not force you to come with me."

He continued to stare at me in utter disbelief, obviously trying to figure out what was fuelling this raging fire that I could feel roaring inside of me...and it was not the type of fire Jesse usually caused to burn within me.

"Susannah, you told me to return with you so that we could marry," he said, speaking slowly so that I could hear every word. "You said-"

The casual tone that he used when he spoke those words caused the burning to move, shifting from my stomach to my chest. It felt as though my heart was on fire, the flames scorching the muscle until the pain became nigh on unbearable. I could also feel miniature fires in the corner of my eyes and my lips twitched involuntarily.

_Not now, Suze..._

"Well, the man I have been with these past few days does not seem too interested in marrying me," I tried to shout. I tried to shout this but my voice broke completely mid-sentence and I felt the first tear fall. "You speak as though you feel you _have_ to marry me. And to be honest, I don't want to marry someone who is only going to break my heart. In which case, this trip has been a whole waste of time because I have no reason to return."

Jesse's expression changed when he looked into my eyes; it softened. He opened his mouth to say something but the words did not follow. He shook his head profusely before closing the gap between us.

"_Querida_, how...how could you think that?" he asked, his disbelief now evident in his voice. Though this time it was accompanied by something unpleasant...hurt. "Surely you should know by now the way I feel about you?"

His large, gentle hands came up and placed themselves on either side of my face, one of the thumbs wiping away the tears from the one eye that was obviously not as emotionally strong as the other one. I could feel his hands shaking but I could also feel the heat that I always felt when he touched me...that unnatural heat that I felt throughout my entire body.

His lips soon followed, gently taking my top lip between them and giving me the sweetest kiss that I have ever experienced. His nose was pressed lightly against the side of my own and for some reason this made me want him to kiss me properly.

"I know," I whispered, my voice refusing to speak louder than that. "But lately you have felt so far away. It feels as though you don't care anymore."

As the tears broke free I pressed my face into his neck so that he would not have to see them. It was ridiculous, because he could obviously feel them, but somehow it made me feel better. Even more so when his arms came around me and he slowly rocked me from side to side, whispering those Spanish words that I missed so much.

"_Lo siento_," he apologised. "I just...I'm scared, _querida_. I don't want to go back. If we are caught..."

His voice was nasally so it was obvious that he was crying, too. I held him tighter, subconsciously willing him to remain strong. He had to. He was my rock, as stupid as it sounds. If he could not be strong then what chance did I stand?

"It won't come to that," I assured him. "I won't let them take you again."

He chuckled, grateful for my concern but he obviously thought that he did not need it.

"It's not me I'm worried about."

* * *

Fairwater Valley was separated from the main village in a sense. A mile or two from Fairwater harbour there was an opening in the rocks that was not visible to the untrained eye. 

To a normal sailor it seemed to be a wall of impenetrable rock but I assured the captain of our ship that the rock parted where the plant life seemed to be at its thickest. Of course, the captain thought that we were insane but as soon as Jesse waved more money in front of his face he positioned the ship in front of the rocks and we sailed through the curtain of hanging weeds.

There were people there to greet us as the ship pulled into the rather impressive harbour that the village folk had constructed. Of course, they were armed with guns and various other weapons but I was not fazed. After all, I was used to this. These people were wary about who they let into their sacred place.

The captain and his crew along with the other passengers remained on the ship while Jesse and I made our way down onto the dock. We were accosted by two well-built men with small swords and rifles and they roughly grabbed us and began to lead us into the village. Jesse tried to protest and fight back but I assured him that everything would be fine once I explained who I was and why I was there. I did not know the men who showed up on the dock, so I was unable to talk to them. But these men were not the only inhabitants who were aware of our presence. A pretty impressive crowd had formed around the dock at the appearance of the ship.

Some of them smiled at me and others waved. I recognised many faces but I didn't know any of them well enough to ask for a place to stay. Fortunately I did not have to search the crowd for a friend because a familiar voice began shouting at the men who held us.

"Let her go!" The voice screamed. "This is Suze Simon; do you not know who she is? Out of my way...hey, butch, I'm talking to _you_!"

I laughed happily, recognising the voice as that of CeeCee.

She stumbled through the crowd and glared at the men beside Jesse and I who, amazingly, dropped us like hot coal and took a step back.

CeeCee threw her arms around me once she was close enough and held me so tight that I had to fake choking so that she would release me. CeeCee has a grip that is tighter than a corset.

"Suze!" she squealed again. "Oh, we heard what happened in the village and we were so worried. We feared the worst."

I hugged her back lightly, unable to keep the smile from my face.

"I'm fine," I assured her. "I went to Spain with Jesse and he has been looking after me. It is so good to see you again!"

As though she had only just realised that I was not here alone, she turned to face Jesse and laughed.

"Forgive my lack of manners," she cried. "I'm CeeCee Webbe. You must be Jesse de Silva?"

Jesse shook the hand that she held out and when she grasped his strong hand (which seemed even more tanned in comparison to her pink skin) she gasped, seemingly in awe of him. A surreptitious sideways glance told me that she had the same first impression of Jesse that I had.

"It is very nice to meet you," she giggled girlishly. "Suze wrote to me a few days before you left to notify me of your imminent arrival and to explain everything that has happened over the past couple of months."

She stepped in-between us and placed an arm around our shoulders (well, slightly lower on Jesse since he is so tall) to guide us through the dispersing crowd.

"My mother has her hands full so unfortunately you will be unable to stay in our house for the duration of your visit," she continued. "But ever since Quinn's arrival, more people have been seeking refuge here. They wander into the forest and we have been venturing out to bring people to safety. So, to accommodate the new arrivals we have been building more housing. Of course, it is coming along slowly but we an offer you a three-roomed house to share until you choose to return to Spain. It is fairly basic; a bedroom, kitchen and wash room. But I am sure that you will be comfortable there. After all, for the condemned, the choices are limited."

I looked past her at Jesse, who was smiling in my direction. He was obviously thinking 'who _is_ this crazy girl?' but was to polite to say it.

I could hear a masculine voice behind me that was complaining about the weight of the luggage CeeCee had forced its owner to carry. Though I could tell by the light tone that he used that it was all in jest. He seemed perfectly willing to carry heavy objects for CeeCee. It was quite endearing. CeeCee was my no means oblivious to his affection if her secret smiles were anything to go by. I planned to ask her about it later.

When we arrived at the small abode that Jesse and I would be calling home for the next week or so, I gasped in surprise.

It was the most beautiful little dwelling that I had ever seen. You would not see the likes of it in the main village, not even in the rich area. It was constructed with stone, unlike most houses in the village and the roof was complete and sturdy-looking. Even the door did not creak when we entered the house.

The house seemed larger inside than it did out. The front door led into the kitchen area, which was almost the size of the kitchen in the Ackerman household. There was a small wooden dining table in one corner and two simple chairs stood next to it. It had a somewhat cosy feel. The bedroom was smaller than what I had been given by Jesse's mother but it was big enough for us. The sheets looked brand new and even the curtains that surrounded the small window did not appear to be second hand.

I felt Jesse's heat behind me and his hand on my arm as we observed our new bedroom. It felt as though we were a couple who were searching for the perfect house. But no matter how right this felt, there was still that nagging feeling that our return would not be as joyful as I had planned. It was a simple plan; return to Fairwater, talk to my mother, marry. But I know that fate works in hideously unfair ways so something was bound to go wrong. I just chose to ignore it at that moment because if something was going to go wrong I should make the most of the time I had beforehand, shouldn't I?

"Thank you," I told CeeCee as her male friend (who's name, I was told, is Adam) heaved our luggage onto our large bed.

"If there is anything that you both need, just call for me, okay?" Adam informed us. "And if you rethink your insane idea of returning to the village, you are welcome to stay here for as long as you like."

I smiled at him, grateful for his concern. I liked Adam. He was a good guy, and I could tell that he made CeeCee happy. I could tell that he would not have fit in with the village folk because of his carefree attitude. He was a jester, for lack of a better descriptive word. He seemed kind-hearted and though he appeared laid back I could tell that he would stand up for his friends whatever the cost may be. It was a shame that society shunned people like Adam. One wrong word to the wrong person could have ended his young life.

He walked over to CeeCee and placed an arm around her in a friendly manner.

"We contacted Father Dominic after we received your letter," CeeCee explained. "He has arranged for your mother to meet him at the church in the village tomorrow night at dusk and he wishes for you to be there. He...he did not respond at first when we asked him about the marriage but he then told us that he would speak to you both about it."

She tentatively turned to leave but then swivelled back around to face us.

"Just so you know," she spoke. "I think that venturing out there is a bad idea. Madame Zara predicted your return...also that you would return with the man she told you that you would meet. The love that would last for all eternity... But...she also told us that we are only in the eye of the storm. Suze, bad things are about to happen in the village. If you go out there, you will be walking right into the chaos."

"CeeCee, I have to do this," I replied, Jesse gripping my hand in reassurance. "Please understand that. If we are careful, we have nothing to worry about."

She chose not to reply. She simply looked at me in despair before Adam led her outside and I turned to Jesse once they were gone.

Just like CeeCee, he did not speak a word. I had known his opinion on this from the start so there was no need in asking him what was wrong. Instead, I sighed theatrically and fell back onto the bed. To my surprise, it was quite comfortable. I did not have to wait long before I felt warm arms around me and hard muscles against my back.

"We should not stay any longer than is necessary," he whispered, his sensuous lips brushing against the outside of my ear. "I want to marry you, not run for my life again."

His lips travelled from my ear down the back of my neck and onto my bare shoulder. I shuddered as his hand slid up my thigh underneath my skirt and came dangerously close to a certain part of my anatomy. I pretended to hate it when he did this but of course, I loved it. Because Jesse's hands are large and calloused and the texture of his skin always made me shiver with delight whenever he touched me. But we made it a rule not to give in to our urges in the middle of the day when there were others around. But sometimes the urge became too strong and we ended up falling into each other's arms regardless of the possible consequences.

I rolled over so that I was facing him and moved my body so that it was half-covering his, my right leg placed carefully in-between his.

"Not now," I whispered, lowering my lips to his. I felt his sigh as I rubbed my lips against his, not quite kissing him. His lips were so much different from mine. Somehow they seemed rougher in texture; though they were in no way rough in the way they worked. When I kissed him I knew that he felt it throughout his body, just like I did, because he would occasionally twitch, fighting back the urge to pin me down and have his wicked way with me. But with the position I was currently lying in he would have been unable to move without hurting me so I had him trapped, so to speak.

He kissed me back with gusto, his hand (which had previously rested on my waist) sliding up my torso until it rested gently on my breast. It was not an intimate gesture, though a few weeks ago it would have been. It felt amazing to be so comfortable with someone I cared so much about.

Unfortunately, he pulled back and gently pushed me to the side while he wandered over to where he had pushed our luggage. While he was occupied I removed my outer dress so that I was only wearing the slip and my underwear. I misjudged the weather when we were approaching. It was far chillier out at sea than it was on dry land and the Valley always did seem warmer than the village. When Jesse turned to face me again I noticed him inhale sharply. I should point out that the slip I wore was never intended to be used as a dress...it was far too revealing. Its purpose was to warm the body and emphasise certain parts for low cut dresses.

Jesse finally managed to tear his eyes away from my body and scrambled back onto the bed with haste. I was flattered at first but then he kneeled in front of me and began to nervously play with something in his hands.

"Susannah, I know that things have been tense between us for the past couple of weeks," he told me. "But my feelings for you haven't changed and I...I should have done this properly the first time."

Then he moved his hand so that I could see what he held. It was a ring. A beautiful diamond ring.

"This was my grandmother's," he explained. "She told me to give it only to a woman I would love forever and not to a woman I was forced to marry. She told me to give my heart and soul with this ring and that is what I intend to do. Querida, if you will forgive my appalling behaviour and marry me, I want you to accept this ring and I want you to understand what this means..."

He looked at me, waiting anxiously for a response. I only wish that I had been able to give an intelligent one. This time I knew that he was serious with his proposal...that he _knew_ that we would be able to marry and actually wanted to. Not that he didn't want to the first time. But this time there was no hope involved because this _was _going to happen. And for him to pledge his heart and soul to me...it was enough to drive me almost to tears.

Since I was unable to reply verbally, I held out my left hand and allowed him to slide the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly and glistened brightly where it sat. Of course I would only be wearing it for a few moments before we hid it away in anticipation of the wedding. I only wished that I was able to give Jesse my father's wedding ring now. But it was in my mother's possession and she would not relinquish it until she had agreed to the wedding.

"It is a beautiful ring," I told him. It was all that I could think of to say. Unfortunately that appeared to be the cue for him to remove the ring and place it in the drawer of the bureau next to the bed. This small interlude only made me even more anxious to marry him. I have never loved anyone so completely and so unconditionally as I loved Jesse. I wanted the whole world to know how much he meant to me.

Every time that he kissed me, like he did as soon as he climbed back onto the bed, I felt as though he was kissing me for the first time. He would tease and torment, applying varying amounts of pressure to cause me to groan in encouragement. Even now I could feel his lips twist into a smile as they moved down to my neck.

"Mmm, Jesse," I moaned as I fell back and his body covered mine. This time he did not fully brace himself in order to press into me with his lower half. I swore violently and slid my hands underneath his shirt as his body stopped the vertical movement that mine was trying to carry out. Of course, this resulted in my hips rubbing against his and I knew then how this kissing session was going to end.

I tugged at the front of his shirt to loosen the laces, not caring if I ripped anything in the process. As he moved his arms to help me push his shirt off his shoulders his hands slid up my thighs and rid me of my slip. As he pushed the thin piece of fabric up my body he pressed his thumbs against my skin which caused my body to rise in their wake, my back arching. I was breathing so quickly that my lungs felt as though they were on fire. I let out an anguished cry when he eventually cast the article aside and pressed his chest against mine, effectively pinning me to the bed.

He whispered to me in Spanish, his breath stiflingly hot against my cheek.

I reached down to unbuckle his belt but it was impossible in our current position so he pulled us both upright and I ws easily able to slide my finger underneath the buckle and work it loose. I tried to slip a hand into the now-open space but Jesse gripped my hips and pulled me further onto his lap.

"No teasing," he panted, a smile breaking out again. I smacked him lightly on the chest while I gazed down at his face. He looked up at me like a child would look at its mother in anticipation of a treat...or a reward. I ran my fingers down his chest, pausing when I reached the bottom of his rib cage before running my hand back up to his shoulders and pushing back forcefully. Somehow I managed to twist our bodies as they fell so that we were almost straight and Jesse managed to wriggle the extra distance so that his head rested back against the pillows.

"Those pants are teasing me," I purred (at least, I hoped it was a purr). "They have to go."

And with his help, they did. Along with his underwear, then mine. I lay back on top of him to kiss him lightly, teasing him just like he had told me not to.

"Ah, _querida_," he gasped. "I cannot wait to make you my wife."

Although his words seemed sexist I knew that he spoke them with nothing but good intentions. He loved me...he _adored_ me. I kissed him again as his words filled me with joy.

He groaned in protest, wanting me to do so much more than simply kiss him. His hands snaked up my stomach and cupped my breasts, which he began to massage gently, knowing damn well what effect this had on me. So, I took his bottom lip between my own as I moved my hips down, slowly sliding onto him.

I gasped in surprise as he groaned in ecstasy. Wow, it felt...different somehow.

I began to move slowly on top of him, his moans and slurred words urging me on. His hands slowly slid down to my waist, tracing my curves, so that he could hold my hips and help me move. I occasionally leaned down to kiss him and eventually we cried out in unison and I collapsed on top of him.

He gently rolled us over so that our combined heat was no longer suffocating and began to stroke my damp hair.

"Does it bother you?" I asked, pulling the blanket up to my armpits. "That I am not 'pure' as people so commonly call it?"

Jesse chuckled softly before replying.

"_Querida_, it would be hypocritical of me if I was 'bothered'," he replied. His voice was drowsy and warm. "You are still the same woman I fell in love with."

I smiled, though this was not the question that had been on my mind since we left Spain.

"What about Father Dominic? Do you think he will refuse to marry us because of what we are doing?"

Jesse frowned and stopped stroking my hair. I thought that I had said something wrong, that maybe he construed my curiosity as a statement of regret.

"Why should it matter?" He asked. "We are doing nothing wrong. If loving you is a sin then I will smile through my punishment. Besides, does he need to know?"

His response caused a warm sensation to spread through my body and I moved closer to him in order to maintain it.

Lying with him like this was the most satisfying thing I had ever experienced. Lying in the arms of the one I love, breathing together. It feels as though time has stopped and all that exists is us. I never wanted to leave his arms because I knew that was the place I was safe. Those strong arms would protect me from all they could and I knew that they would always be around me, even when we were physically apart.

I sighed and pressed my body as far against his as it would go. The cool sheet between us made the heat bearable so I could breathe freely.

"Stay awake, _querida_," Jesse whispered. "Stay with me."

I murmured a soft reply, trying to stay awake despite the wave of fatigue that swept over me.

For a moment I felt a lapse in the security blanket that Jesse's love and protectiveness provided me and a chilling thought crossed my mind. Even with Jesse whispering to me in his native language and rubbing my back with his large hands it still frightened me. It frightened me enough to cause me to shiver in his warm embrace. Because, loathe as I was to admit it, there were some things that Jesse couldn't protect me from...things that were out there and very much a threat.

Things like anger, hatred, and _vengeance_.

Things that resided in Fairwater village.

Things we would be exposed to.

But I chose to ignore this fear. Because I would never leave Jesse's side...not for a moment. After all, like I once said, alone we were cursed, but together we were strong.

**AN - I figured I would write some more fluff. Once they get into the village, everything is going to change. **

**I am aware that CeeCee's behaviour in this chapter is a little...off for a historical time period, but remember, she is in the Valley. In the days of the witch trials even the wrong behaviour would have seen you accused. Hence Adam's presence in the valley. **

**Thank you to all my reviewers! You guys seriously make my day :). **

**Review please :).**


	19. Reunion

**Cursed **

_"No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it." **- Terry Pratchett**_

"Be alert," CeeCee urged me as we approached the forest entrance to the valley. "Do not let your guard down even for one second. Talk to no one, not even old friends and stay together at all costs."

I laughed at her protectiveness, though I was thankful for her warnings. I already knew everything that there was to know about the village and the people in it. I only intended to walk to the church then back to the valley and it was so dark that I doubted anyone would see us.

I pulled my black cloak tight around my shoulders to block out the chilly breeze and checked for the dagger that I had hastily shoved into the inside pocket. It comforted me to know that I had a means of defending myself.

The dress that I wore beneath the cloak was a gift from Madam Zara. It was light and airy in appearance but it kept me warm. It resembled a nightdress in many ways; flowing skirt, ribbons around the waist, small dip in the neckline. The sleeves were long and elegant. The skirt of the dress was hemmed and I could feel small lumps along the hemline...Madam Zara had obviously sewn medicinal herbs into the fabric of the dress should I have the need for them. I couldn't help but feel grateful. It was a small gesture but it meant a lot to me.

"Take this, too," CeeCee continued, passing a silver object to Jesse. It was a small pistol, no bigger than the one that Jesse had used to defend me from the witchfinders on the night that we first kissed. "It probably won't be much use with it being so loud but I thought that it would be better to take one than to be unarmed."

I watched as Jesse's long fingers wrapped around the cold metal. He seemed uneasy but took the weapon all the same.

"I suggest finding somewhere safe in the village to stay during the day," CeeCee added. "It will be infinitely safer than wandering in and out of the woods."

She sighed as she observed me for what would be the last time for a few days and then threw her arms around me. Her grip was unusually loose, as though she genuinely wanted to enjoy this embrace rather than crush my ribcage out of affection.

"_Please_ be careful," she begged, all professionalism going out of the window. "If something happened to you...I don't know what I would do. I can't lose another friend to those pointless trials, especially not my_ best_ friend."

I assured her several times that I would take the utmost care before I pulled my cloak around my shoulders and stepped out into the dark forest.

The wind whipped ferociously around our forms, tugging at the heavy material of our cloaks. Jesse placed an arm around my shoulder to guide me forward and I graciously leaned into him so that the wind did not cause me to stumble.

The ground was dry and hard beneath our feet, which surprised me since it was early November. It was not frost that had hardened the earth; I knew that from the soft thuds that our footsteps made. Frost would have crunched underfoot. It was surprisingly warm for November and I could feel my skin heating beneath the black cloak I wore. But I knew that this cloak served also as a disguise. Jesse refused to wear his hood up but I wanted to do everything that was possible to keep my face hidden and my identity a secret. The townsfolk would recognise me long before they recognised Jesse. Most of the townsfolk did not know what Jesse looked like.

Jesse's left hand gripped my waist and held me into him as we wound through the trees. The sun had already set so we could only see a few feet infront of us.

When we finally approached the edge of the forest Jesse removed his arm and gripped my hand rather than hold my waist.

"Be calm," he urged me and I realised that I was shaking. He squeezed my hand to offer me some form of comfort and I squeezed his back to show him that it was appreciated.

The forest stretched along the edge of the village, bordering both the rich and the poor areas, so we were able to slip into the 'rich community without attracting any unwanted attention.

I don't know why I was surprised to see that nothing had changed. The buildings were coated with the same light ochre stucco that I had become so accustomed to seeing and the rooves and surrounding woodwork were still that familiar seal brown. The rich area always did give me a warm feeling, like I would be safe as long as I remained in the shadows of its oversized buildings. Though now it seemed as dangerous as the poor area. The streets were just as empty and the residents seemed equally frightened. The eyes of those who passed us remained fixed on the ground as they hurried from one building to another. I could feel the tension that hung in the air. My nerves seemed to be stretched almost to breaking point.

Fortunately the church was not too far away. As we drew closer to it Jesse and I picked up our pace until we were almost running through its heavy oak doors. They slammed shut behind us with a heavy thud which echoed around the empty chapel. The only light that we had to see by was the glow of several candles that were lit along the aisles. Father Dominic had obviously not forgotten about our visit.

My assumption was proved to be true as the priest in question hastily strode down the aisle towards us. I could see his eyes light up when he was close enough and I had to resist the urge to throw my arms around him. I had missed him...I had missed everyone.

"Susannah," he greeted, smiling at me with a twinkle in those baby blue eyes. "Jesse." Jesse smiled back at Father Dominic and told him how good it was to see him again.

"I assume that CeeCee spoke to you?" He asked. "Her friend Adam approached me yesterday. I can't say that it was easy convincing your mother to venture out of her house after dark but she is here."

His eyes fell to my hand, which was currently gripping Jesse's tighter than it should have.

"As for the marriage...we shall discuss that later," he added before turning to guide us to the room at the back of the church. I noticed that his voice wavered when he spoke and I assumed that he was not happy about marrying us. After all, my mother was unlikely to approve of Jesse on the grounds that I had ran away with him.

My confidence faltered for a moment and Jesse moved his hand to my back.

"I'm here," he whispered. "Everything will be alright."

I nodded nervously, unsure of whether or not to believe him. How would my mother react to seeing me? Would she be happy? Or would she be angry? Would she hate me? I repeated my explanation over and over in my head, but it didn't seem to be enough. I had been so sure of everything before we had left, but now...

Father Dominic held the door open for us and I felt my heart shudder to a stop. Jesse's hand gently pressed into the small of my back and I stumbled forward into the small room.

It was an unfurnished room with only a table and a solitary chair. There was no window so the only light to see by was the occasionally flickering light from the candles that were melted into the candelabras on the wall.

The woman that stood next to the table looked strangely familiar even when my eyes simply passed over her figure. Her cloak was carelessly draped over the small wooden chair and I could clearly see her elegant royal blue dress. As soon as I stepped forward her eyes darted up to meet mine.

In that one moment everything seemed to stand still. Her face relaxed and her blue eyes softened. I could see the relief on her face.

"Susie," she breathed, as though it was the most beautiful word that could be spoken.

I paused momentarily, trying so hard not to cry. I had promised myself that I would be professional about this visit, that I would remain strong and prove that I was capable of making it on my own. But who was I trying to fool? She was my mother.

"Mom," I breathed as my legs propelled me forward into her arms. "I missed you."

Her slender arms snaked around me, the palms of her hands flat against my back as though she was trying to prove to herself that I was real.

"Where did you go?" she asked. I could tell that she was crying. "We heard awful stories. Some said that you were a witch, others said that you were kidnapped. I couldn't bear to believe any of the stories that I heard."

I didn't move. I simple allowed her to sob into my shoulder and shake quietly in my arms. It is strange because I never pictured us like this. She was always the one to bandage my scraped knees and lay with me on sleepless nights. I was never the one to hold her when she cried, to assure her that everything would be fine. I just let her cry over her dead husband because I was too afraid to admit that I could see him. It was yet another reason to hate the trials. If I had not been so afraid I would have spoken up.

"Mom, I'm alright," I assured her, pushing her away before her tears stained my cloak. "I ran into some trouble so I had to leave. I am more sorry than I can say that it had to be this way."

"What way?" she demanded. Suddenly she didn't seem so weak and afraid. "Where have you been? What have you been doing for the past month? I have been worrying myself sick! Do you have any idea how I felt? I lost your father; the last thing that I wanted was to think that I had lost you, too!"

Jesse shifted behind me and my mother's eyes shot to where he stood. I saw her tense, her jaw jutting out slightly.

"I knew that you could not be trusted," she hissed, rounding on him. "When I heard of the disappearance of the blacksmith's assistant from his jail cell on the night of Susannah's disappearance, I knew that it was you. Their descriptions seemed hauntingly familiar. There is no Jesse in the de Silva family, I checked! You are no rancher. You are nothing but-"

"Mom!" I screamed, loud enough to cause even Father Dominic to jump. I reached out and took a hold of Jesse's wrist and pulled him towards me so that we were standing side by side then I gripped his hand tightly.

"Jesse saved my life," I explained. "I was walking in the forest one night when I was accosted by witch finders and Jesse helped me fight them off." I turned and gazed up into his eyes. Just one look into those dark pools of intelligence and love and I felt immeasurable strength. I swallowed hard and continued. "Complications arose and Jesse was arrested for the murder of both witch finders. I couldn't let him rot in that jail cell for a crime that was partly mine...and I loved him too much. So I broke him out and in the process I was accused of witchcraft. It was no longer safe for either of us to remain here. Jake helped us escape and I lived with Jesse on his family's ranch. His real name is Hector...which is why you could find no 'Jesse' in the de Silva family."

"I did some things I was not proud of," Jesse added, not once tearing his eyes away from my own. It was comforting in a way but also annoying because of the effect that this had on me. All I wanted to do was to pull him down and kiss him. "So I ran away from my family and started a new life here in Fairwater. Running away was the most cowardly thing that I have ever done, but it was also the best. I would not have met Susannah had I not been so foolish."

A warm thumb traced my jaw line as long fingers curled under my chin. I sighed quietly and leaned into his hand as his thumb moved up to trace my bottom lip.

"Susannah," my mother whispered. "I-I am sorry. But you have to understand...when the person who means more to you than anything disappears, you will do whatever you can to bring them back."

I nodded in agreement. I knew that as well as she did. If only she knew the whole story. But I dared not tell her about Paul. There was no knowing what he would do to her and the Ackermans if they tried to punish him.

Jesse moved towards me and kissed my left temple, whispering something in Spanish as he pulled away.

"I understand," I told her. Which was the truth. "Which is why I came back here, so you could see that I am happy...and safe."

The realisation that this may be the last time that she would see me hit her and she turned away from us.

I knew the pain that she was going through. I had been through it myself, back when I first left Fairwater. I did not wish to leave her, but what choice did I have? I could remain here and no doubt find myself subjected to unspeakable torture, eventually confessing to crimes I had not committed simply to end my suffering...or I could leave and start a new life with Jesse. Even though I was her daughter and the only physical memento of my father, she too understood this.

I moved away from Jesse and stepped towards my mother, placing a comforting hand on her arm. When she turned to face me again I saw the acceptance in her eyes.

"I just want what is best for you," she admitted, blinking back tears. "If that means that I will never see you again, then so be it. I will give you and Jesse my blessing on the condition that I can witness your marriage."

I smiled in joy upon realising what she meant.

"I would have it no other way," I told her. "And I won't be gone forever. I will return to visit as soon as the trials are over...if they are over in our lifetime."

She pulled me towards her again and I shuddered. I would miss her so much.

When we pulled away she reached for her cloak and turned to Father Dominic.

"When is the soonest you can perform a marriage ceremony in secret?" she enquired. Father Dominic looked unsure, but he answered her question all the same.

"Tomorrow at dusk." He said no more on the subject and I assume that it was out of fear that he may say something to upset my mother.

"Helen, may I walk you outside?" he asked, offering my mother his hand.

She smiled in gratitude and placed her hand in his, whispering a brief goodbye to me. The time for a final farewell would come tomorrow night.

I exhaled deeply when she was left, feeling suddenly weak. It was done. My mother knew that I was alive and well and Jesse and I woudl be married the following night. It was as though all of the pieces of my life were suddenly coming together.

I lifted myself up onto the small table so that my legs did not have to support me and sighed.

"It is done," I announced, vocalising my feelings.

Jesse laughed softly and made his way over to me, discarding his cloak onto a nearby stool in the process.

"_Te amo_," he told me as he moved between my open legs and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. "This time tomorrow night we will no longer have to hide our affection."

He seemed so ecstatic when he said this that it made me scream with joy inside. When we vocalised our feelings it made them seem more real. And this...this is what dreams are made of.

I reached up to frame his face with my hands, sighing as they touched his flawless skin. He truly was perfect in every way, from his appearance to his soul. With people like Jesse in the world it made me wonder how others could be so cruel and heartless.

"Whatever happens," I told him, wrapping my legs around his lean body. "I will be happy that we got this far."

He smiled for a brief moment before our lips met, and when they did I sighed and went limp in his arms, as was the case every time we kissed. The kiss was pure and chaste even if the feelings it evoked weren't. I mentally planned out everything I would do to him after our wedding and felt my body quiver in anticipation.

When we heard Father Dominic's footsteps outside of the door we reluctantly pulled apart. He was already somewhat opposed to our relationship so there was no reason to inform him of its non-platonic development.

"Susannah, Jesse," he nodded, allowing the door to silently close behind him. "I cannot say that I agree with this secret marriage, especially considering the trials, but I can see that there is no way to influence your decision."

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply before continuing.

"Unfortunately I cannot offer you a place to stay tonight and I do not recommend returning to the valley as it may attract unwanted attention to that area and you may not be able to return there tomorrow. Is there anywhere in the village you will be safe?"

I slid down off the table and wrapped my fingers around Jesse's hand. He looked down at me thoughtfully then turned to Father Dominic.

"Henry," he said. "The blacksmith. He was a friend of Susannah's father and he is a good man. He may allow us to sleep in his stable for tonight."

While the prospect of sleeping with the stench of horse manure was less than appealing, the thought of curling up in the hay with only Jesse's body heat to keep me warm was extremely satisfying.

"And what if he refuses?" Father Dominic asked, his pessimism taking charge.

"Then we will find somewhere." Jesse was adamant and it was obvious that he was looking on the bright side of things. He turned to me and helped me to pull my cloak over my shoulders.

"Stay here," he instructed. "You were accused of witchcraft so they will be more likely to arrest you. Chances are that they have forgotten about me. If he allows us to stay, I will send Henry to collect you or I will come back myself. If...if something should happen to me, go back to the valley."

"But-" I started to say, forgetting that arguing with Jesse is futile; he is so stubborn.

"No," he told me in a voice as firm as his resolve. "Susannah, I can take whatever they throw my way. If anything were to happen to you...I could never forgive myself. Without you, I have no reason to protect myself. Please understand that."

I sighed and embraced him. I didn't want to let him leave on his own, but he did have a point. He was arrested for murder and sentenced to death. I had been accused of witchcraft. The only person in the village likely to remember his arrest was Paul, and he rarely ventured into the village. But I...the villagers never forgot the face of a witch.

"Be careful," I urged him, pecking him lightly on the lips. "Because if I lose you I will hunt down those responsible...and it won't be pretty."

He laughed and shook his head lightly.

"I would expect nothing less from you, _querida_," he commented before turning towards the door. He smiled at me one last time before pulling it open. "I love you."

And with that, he was gone.

I shuddered from the draught that seeped through the open door and drew my cloak further around my shoulders. The door slammed shut with a resonating thud, sending dust and small chunks of the stone wall whirling to the ground.

"Do you think he will be alright?" I asked Father Dominic, my eyes remaining fixed on the closed door.

"Susannah, my dear child, you have a lot to learn about a man in love," he answered. "His determination to protect you will ensure that he returns safely."

I smiled in satisfaction. Of course. Jesse was all I had and he knew that. For that reason alone, he would not allow himself to be captured.

But still... The knot that had been present in my stomach ever since we left the valley tightened and I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he _was_ caught. What if his captors had seen him leave the church? I would be found and arrested and Father Dominic would receive the punishment for helping an accused witch...trial and execution. I couldn't put him through that, too.

"I have to go," I whispered. Father Dominic twisted around and looked at me in disbelief.

"Susannah?"

"I have to leave," I repeated. "I will follow him to the blacksmith's...Henry would not refuse to help us. For Jesse to make the trip three times would only endanger us all. I have to go."

I pulled open the door and was pleased to see that the chapel was still empty.

"We will return tomorrow night," I promised, then stepped out into the chapel before Father Dominic could object.

I hurried down the aisle, pulling up the hood of my cloak as I ran. The moonlight bathed the street outside in an unnatural blue glow which fortunately proved to be enough to light my way. It was not a full moon, for which I was grateful. Anyone seen outside on a full moon was sure to be arrested.

The wind was no warmer than it had been upon our arrival and it continued to nip at my skin, turning my cheeks a rosy shade of pink. I was tanned from the Spanish sun so the glow would not have been as noticeable as it usually was.

It was a strange pattern of weather; the air was warm yet the wind was chilly. My body alternated between burning and trembling as I continued down the path I am sure Jesse would have taken.

Turning left onto another street, I stepped up onto the porch of a nearby house. The houses were all linked so the porches were joined and provided me with enough shadow to slip past unnoticed. The houses were all empty. Some of them had always been, some of them were obviously the dwellings of those executed when I had been in Spain. The street never was busy. Three families at the most occupied the houses, though now barely two were left.

I tore my eyes away from the holes that revealed what was left of the previous owners' possessions and carried on, the roof of the porch creaking ominously above me in the wind.

I could feel the fear creeping upon me like a predator, threatening to tear me apart. I shivered from the uneasy feelings that seized me and forced myself to walk on. I always hated walking alone after dark, even before Quinn appeared. But now...every sound increased my fear, which would culminate to the point of my body refusing to move faster than it was then the fear would reach a devastating crescendo and explode with the call of a bird.

I could feel eyes on me, though I convinced myself that it was all in my mind. Still, I forced myself to pick up the pace, to practically jog down the street in an effort to outrun my fear. Then...the creak of a floorboard.

I spun around violently, my eyes searching every orifice to make sure that I was alone. That creak wasn't a product of my hasty walking. The porch had fallen away several metres back so I was now walking on bare earth.

I trembled, sinking my hand into my cloak and wrapping my fingers around the comforting handle of the dagger.

Silence.

I could hear my ragged breathing, staggering uneasily across the uncomfortable silence. I could feel my frantic heart beating against the hand that held the dagger.

Nothing.

My shoulders slumped and I breathed a short sigh of relief. It was just my imagination.

I relinquished my grip on the dagger and turned to continue down the street when I heard it again. The floorboard. I didn't even have time to scream before a hand shot out and dragged my kicking, flailing form into the nearest empty house. A large hand pressed tightly against my mouth as I was violently thrown against a wall and my assailant whispered a silent 'ssh' into my ear.

"Scream all you want," they whispered. "You know who will come."

My whole body locked in fear. I could feel cold, emotionless tears falling freely down my cheeks. That voice...

I struggled against his hold but he just held onto me tighter, holding my body firm against his. He could feel me shaking, I am sure of it. He could not hold me this tight and not realise.

The arm that held my torso against his shifted and I saw a finger point to the doorway I had been dragged through a moment earlier. I knew that this was my chance to escape but I couldn't move. Not because of the fear, but because of the figure that slipped past the door, oblivious as to what was happening inside. It was a witch finder.

This thought should have made me relax, because it meant that my assailant was neither a witch finder nor had any intention of turning me over to them (at least not yet). But I knew that I was choosing the lesser of two evils, even before he moved so that I could see the light reflecting in his cold blue eyes.

Paul...

**AN - Sorry it took so long...I had problems writing this with it being a filler. But, I got it done! **

**Thank you so much to all my reviewers. I'd say how much I love you all, but you already know it ;). **

**Please review :). **


	20. In The Presence Of Danger

**Cursed **

_"And all that followed fell, like Mercury to Hell," **Alkaline Trio**_

Neither of us moved. We both waited in painstaking silence for the muffled footsteps of the witch finder to fade away. I could barely breathe and I am sure that it had nothing to do with the tanned hand that remained firmly clasped to my mouth to stifle my silent scream. When the only sound was my shuddering gasps and the creaking of the old wood, Paul's eyes wandered around the open interior of the house before meeting mine once more.

"I am going to remove my hand," he told me, his voice perfectly calm and displaying no emotion. "Whether you scream or not is up to you, just remember what will happen if you do choose to scream."

I nodded in understanding and his hand dubiously left my mouth. I don't know why he was acting as though he wanted to protect me. I knew fine well that he would kill me himself if I gave him no other option.

My whole body shook as I slid along the wall, away from the doorway. I stood no chance of making it past Paul and escaping. He was faster than me anyway, so he could have easily caught up with me if I ran.

"No greeting?" he asked, smiling in the dark. "I haven't seen you in months. Except, of course, when you astrally-projected yourself here. I was under the impression that you were happy. Or is your Spanish lover not the man you thought he was?"

His snicker as he spoke the last sentence caused anger to flare deep within me.

"What do you care?" I spat. "You drove me away from this place."

His laugh this time was deep and know-it-all.

"So I accused you of witchcraft?" he laughed. "Suze, you did that all by yourself."

The wood beneath his feet groaned in protest as he walked over to me again. I stepped back away from him only to have my progress impeded by the wall, the damp wood pressing almost painfully against my cloaked back. If I could have pressed myself through the wood, I would have; anything to escape his heat as he pressed the palms of his hands against the wall on either side of me. I was effectively caged.

"Though I must say, the sun has done wonders for you," he whispered. I could feel his breath on my cheek, warm and moist; just like the palms of my hands. "You look more incredible than I ever thought possible. You seem older, more mature. You even smell different. You smell like him. But still..."

A wave of nausea rose up inside of me when the backs of his fingers brushed lightly against my cheek. I leaned away from him in disgust and pushed at one of his arms which gave away unusually easily.

"Stop that," I commanded. "Stop acting as though you have some sort of claim to me. I am engaged now; soon I will be starting a family of my own. Why can't you just let your ridiculous obsession die?"

If I thought that my short speech would influence his way of thinking, I was wrong. In fact, it seemed to make him furious, if the way he laughed humourlessly and rubbed his chin was anything to go by.

"Engaged?" he asked. "You are engaged to the _blacksmith_? Why? Why would you throw aside a life of class for...? Oh."

He dropped his hand and moved towards me again, this time stopping in his tracks when I braced myself in preparation to fight back.

His eyes roamed curiously over my whole body, coming to rest on my face a moment later.

"You slept with him, didn't you?" he asked, though it was obvious that he knew the answer. "I knew there was something else about you...something barely visible. Oh, if anyone knew. Is that why you are marrying him? Are you...pregnant?"

A laugh was ripped from me.

"Of course not," I told him, though I was not sure if this was true. I could have been pregnant at that moment and there was no way that I would know. I would be oblivious as to my condition until the nausea set in...Or I missed a monthly bleed. "Not that it would be any of your business if I was. And yes, I made love with him." I smiled with pride when I admitted this. I was not ashamed of what we had done, though many people would have believed that I should be.

Paul said nothing in reply. Instead, he chose to pace the empty room angrily, his footsteps echoing loudly off the damp, termite-ridden walls. His mere presence was unnerving, even more so when he did not speak. I did not know what was going through his head, not even when he reached up to run his fingers through his curly brown hair.

When he stopped suddenly and marched over to me my whole body froze once more. My muscles twitched, ready to enforce the 'fight' response that I had neglected in favour of 'flight' for far too long.

"Why him?" he demanded, anger tinting every word. "Why not me? I have everything, he has nothing. I am rich, I have connections. You have known me for years yet you fall for him in weeks."

"I fell for him," I spoke, my voice rising dangerously before falling once more, "because he is the only man to treat me like a normal woman. He is the only man to know my faults and love me even more for them. He _adores_ me, Paul. He would die for me, but I would never let him. He would never try to pressure me into doing something that I don't want to do. Jesse and I...we were meant to be."

My head smashed violently against the wood, the moisture that softened it cushioning the blow. I could feel Paul's hands gripping my upper arms tightly and he shook me.

"If you had given me the chance, I could have done all those things," he shouted. "He can't possibly satisfy you. He can't possibly give you all that you want...all that you _need_."

"What would you know about my needs?" I wanted to know. He showed no signs of releasing me so I relaxed against the wall, wanting to save my energy should the opportunity to escape present itself. "You never cared about anyone's needs but your own!"

His eyes burned into mine, rage bubbling visibly within him. But I could see that rage was not all that he felt. Hurt... Pain was visible in every line of his face, from the furrowing of his brow to the purse of his lips. He did not blink, not for a while. His gaze remained intense and it filled me with unease. At that moment, I had no idea what he was capable of. He could have let me go or killed me on the spot, and that thought terrified me.

I did not expect him, however, to lean forward and smash his mouth against mine, his tongue forcing my lips open. Unlike the first time he did this, I did not make the mistake of kissing him back. His lips did not have the slightest warming effect on me. They were cold, hard and ruthless. I fought against him but he did not move, not even when I pressed down on his toes with my heel.

His hands began to move up my arms, raising goose bumps for all the wrong reasons. My eyes closed tightly and I tried to do the same with my mouth but he was too insistent. Though the kiss barely lasted a few seconds before his bottom lip slipped between mine it felt like an eternity. As soon as I felt his lip against my teeth I bit down hard. I could taste his blood as it ran over my teeth before hitting my tongue and forcing me to retch.

He pulled back suddenly, grunting with pain, and I spat out the blood, not wanting to taste it a second longer than was necessary. A moment later I discovered that it didn't matter when a sharp pain exploded through my face and a fresh rush of blood spattered against the top of my mouth. The heat from the force of the blow remained on my cheek as I fell to the ground, unable to break my fall with anything but my wrist which was jolted violently when I landed on it.

A moment later pain exploded again, this time in my chest, and the breath was forced out of me. My face hit the floor when I doubled over in pain.

His frustrated cry rang out through the empty house, almost drowning out my coughing and spluttering. Fire burned through my chest, constricting my lungs so that I could not breathe without choking. I placed my hand where his foot had collided, as though it would somehow stop the pain. For a moment I wondered if he had left the house, as silence descended upon the scene, until I turned to glare and him and found his eyes fixed on my fallen form. His disbelief was evident and for a moment I wondered what had shocked him the most; his sudden assault or my reluctance to kiss him.

I looked away from him, bracing myself for the continuation of his assault. The damp floorboards came dangerously close to my face and I felt a wave of nausea rising as the stronger-than-usual musky scent hit me.

"I don't understand," he breathed, his footsteps thudding away from me. It became evident that he didn't intend to hit me again.

Comforted somewhat by this knowledge, I rose to my feet, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat. My hands shook uneasily as I tried to pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders. It did not make me any warmer but I was no longer shivering.

"What is it that eludes you?" I spat. "The fact that I despise you? Because you only have yourself to thank for that. But I'm not afraid of you anymore. I should be, because I have so much to lose now...but I'm not."

He shook his head and turned to face me again.

"Suze, I'm not the one you should be afraid of," he laughed, stepping forward. "Errol Quinn. Do you know that you are the first 'witch' to escape him? It made him furious and he even sent men out to search for you. If he finds you, he _will_ kill you."

"And I am supposed to be thankful that you have warned me? That you found me first?" I asked.

"You risked an awful lot, coming back here."

The wind whistled through the holes in the decaying wood and I jumped suddenly, startled by the shrill sound. This was ridiculous. Why was I even here?

"He is worth it," I admitted. "He is worth it.

Where was Jesse now? Was he back at the church, wondering where I had disappeared to? Or was he still trying to persuade Henry to provide us with a place to hide for the night? I hoped that he was with Henry. I knew that he would be terrified when he found that I had left the relative safety of the church, even more so when he discovered that I had disappeared en route to Henry's house. I could only hope that he travelled the same route that I did and I could call out to him as he passed the house.

Paul must have sensed my fear and unease return because he dropped the 'lesser of two evils' act and moved towards me yet again, his proximity causing me to shiver.

"Where is he?" he asked. The corners of his mouth twitched and it only served to drive the fear further into my heart. When Paul smiled like that, it was never good. "Where is your lover?"

His eyes flashed and I choked back an honest reply.

"You can't do anything to him," I sneered. "You can't lock him up again because if you do I will turn myself in in return for his freedom. Something tells me that you do not want that to happen."

His smile faltered and a hand shot up to hold my throat gently. Though he was not applying pressure I still gasped and attempted to pull his hand away.

"Why would I want to lock him up again?" he asked, his voice merely a whisper and his lips brushing against my ear. "You may think that your love is worth sacrificing anything for, but what about him? A human being can only take so much pain. There are so many things that I could do to him...that Quinn could do to him. What makes you think that he will remain with you, knowing that he can end it all by turning his back on your relationship?"

My eyes began to sting, pins prickling my tear ducts, threatening to let loose the river of tears that fear had caused to build up.

"Maybe you misheard me earlier...he would _die_ for me, but I wouldn't let him," I choked.

His grip tightened.

"Then what about his family? Will you sit back and watch them suffer because of you? Will _he_? Quinn doesn't care that the trials have been abolished in some countries...he will find a way of getting to them if he ever finds out that they 'hid' you. He will not rest until he has found you and punished you. You will die for your love...is it really worth that? Is it really worth dying for when you can turn Jesse in and live with me for the rest of your natural existence?"

The tears were no longer present; it was as though they had never been threatening to break free in the first place.

"_That_ is what this is all about?" I snarled. "When will it get through to you that I love him? I chose _him_, Paul, not you. If you think that I would give up our relationship for you then you are seriously deluded. I would not turn him in if my very life depended on it. Love is a concept you will _never_ understand...your heart is too cold."

Suddenly I couldn't breathe. His grip tightened, fingers pressing painfully into my throat. I reached up to pry them away but he was too strong. My attempts to free myself only resulted in my fingernails scraping the skin on my neck.

"You don't know me," he hissed, his face millimetres from mine. "Don't act like you know me."

As suddenly as his grip had tightened, he pulled on my throat and I fell forward, colliding with a wooden table that shattered into splintered shards beneath my weight. My hip burned with pain from the moment it smashed into the table top. It spread through my leg, setting the nerves ablaze and making it impossible for me to stand. I cried out, hoping that someone would help me. At that moment I didn't care that my saviour could be a witch finder, I just wanted to get as far away from Paul as possible.

My arm shook terribly when I pushed myself up and I felt the cold touch of metal against my breast. The dagger!

Paul's hand had barely touched my arm when I swung the dagger upwards. The rush of air was accompanied by the ripping of fabric and Paul cried out in surprise, unhurt but still shocked by my attack.

I moved out of the remains of the table and bolted for the doorway but I was not as quick as I should have been. I was thrown to the floor before I knew what was happening.

"Wrong move, Suze," he sneered, wrenching the dagger from my grasp. He kneeled on my legs, pinning them to the floor and his left hand held my wrists to my chest as his right held the dagger under my chin. The cold point pressed against my skin, deep enough to cause pain but not deep enough to draw blood.

"Don't," he warned when I jerked a leg in a futile attempt to retaliate. "You're weak, Suze,_ weak_. In more ways than one. Can't you see what you are giving up? You are too scared to let him go, too scared to disappoint him and it's costing you your life!"

I craned my neck, anything to move away from the blade. I would have pointed out that the only reason my life was in danger was because Paul made it that way.

I opened my eyes, which had been firmly closed since I had been pinned to the ground. Paul was breathing heavily, his curls damp against his forehead and his shirt had been cut open so far that his chest and abdomen were revealed. I could se a tiny sliver of dried blood that had trickled over his toned pectoral muscles. Despite the comfort that this image should have given me (the knowledge that I had succeeded in hurting him) I felt fear seize me and every muscle below my neck tensed. There were images flashing across my mind, memories of the last time I had seen him shirtless replaying themselves. It was then that I realised how alone we were, how isolated we were in this barren neighbourhood and empty house.

"No," I protested, squirming beneath him. I didn't care that the blade pressed against my throat dug into my skin or the hand that held my wrist to my chest tightened. "Let me go. Please, just let me go."

He looked at me quizzically, as though he genuinely did not know why I suddenly became so intent on escaping him. The blade shifted so that the edge was pressing into my throat and not just the tip. He did not say anything as he looked down at me, searching my face with his piercing blue eyes. He watched my tears as they trickled down my cheeks gently.

I watched as his lips parted, words ready to fall from them.

"Paul?"

The voice was not his. It was distinctly juvenile and worried.

I turned my head slightly, straining my eyes to see who this voice belonged to.

"What are you doing?" Jack Slater asked, obviously shocked to find his brother in such a position.

"Go home, Jack," Paul instructed. "You should not be outside after dark. What would mother say?"

Jack stepped forward, his slightly chubby eight-year-old frame shuffling into a patch of moonlight.

"Suze? Suze, what are you doing here? Why are you-?" Jack's voice shook and I felt pity for him. He was so good-natured that I wondered how it would be possible that he could be related to Paul. His eyes fell on the knife at my throat and he gasped. "Paul, what are you doing? Why are you hurting her?"

Paul's grip on my wrist loosened slightly and I tried to break free but he was still too strong.

"I wasn't going to hurt her!" He cried out, his voice breaking into a sob halfway through the sentence. "I wasn't going to..."

His posture relaxed but it still was not enough for me to break free. I struggled but it was to no avail.

"Leave her alone!" Jack shouted. "You are always mean to her and she has done nothing to you!"

He moved forward again and I felt Paul shift. His gaze was fixed on his younger brother, his expression one of anger and worry.

"Jack, go home," he instructed. "Suze is in trouble, I'm just trying to help her."

"Help her?" Jack's shriek rang out in the darkness, almost too high-pitched to bear. I choked out a strangled "help" and his eyes dropped to my face. He was terrified I could see it in his body language. He was terrified for both of us but even more terrified not to help me. He had always told me that he owed me, for helping him to understand his ability and looking after him when his brother did not care.

"Do you think that I do not know what happened the night she left?" His voice was still shaking but his fists had curled up into balls. "You tried to have her boyfriend killed and you tried to blackmail her into sleeping with you! What kind of human being _does_ that? You never help anyone but yourself!"

"That's not true!" Paul roared. His whole body tensed, poised to attack. But Jack stood tall. In a manner of speaking.

"No! You do all these bad things and you expect to go unpunished! What did Suze ever do to you? Nothing! I won't let you hurt her!"

Paul tried to retort but before he could he was thrown off me as his brother slammed into him. There was no way that Jack could fight Paul and I was sure that even Paul was not cruel enough to assault an eight-year-old or a family member. I knew then that Jack had attacked his brother as a distraction. He wanted to buy me enough time to escape.

I was eternally grateful to him, thankful that someone other than Jesse was willing to make a sacrifice to help me.

So, I scuttled towards the door, gripping the doorframe and hoisting myself to my feet as I stumbled onto the dirt. The crisp earth felt pleasant underfoot in comparison to the decaying wood of the house I had been temporarily held captive in. I spun around, trying to remember which way I was heading before I was dragged into the house.

"North, blacksmith's," I gasped. Jesse... I hoped that he had not left yet.

I took off, feet pounding against the hard ground as I sprinted past houses that were partially occupied. My lungs were burning, trying so hard to provide me with oxygen that seemed to be in limited supply.

I did not see the figure in the middle of the street, not until I had collided with it. I did not even realise that there were others congregating in that area. Not until a slender hand gripped my arm and prevented me from falling. Whoever it was was obviously female as I could feel their nails through the thick material of my cloak.

My legs flew up rather dramatically before my feet found the ground again and I managed to steady myself. The hand continued to hold my arm in a grip that was tighter than Paul's. I could hear whispers, surrounding me, disorientating me. I looked into the eyes of the woman who held me and my heart burned with terror.

Her eyes were heavily lined, her skin darker than mine but paler than Jesse's. Her dark brown hair was pulled tightly into an updo that was held in place with many pins and her dress was of the expensive nature. Her eyes burned with fury and a power that only one category of 'person' possessed these days.

"Patricia Vasquez," I muttered. She was one of Errol Quinn's associates, an assistant during his unforgiving trials. I wondered how a woman could devote her life to finding and executing witches when it was primarily women who were accused. It took a cold-hearted woman to condemn another to death.

"Susannah Simon," she snarled, pulling me towards her. "The elusive witch. What a pity; I thought that you would be a harder catch."

"Get off me you witch!" I screamed, shrugging my shoulders. All she did was laugh in my face.

More people were joining the crowd, residents emerging from their homes to watch as another 'witch' was taken away. But I was damned if I was going to let them take me away.

"Susannah!"

My head snapped around violently, my heart sinking considerably in my chest. Jesse peered over the heads of the crowd, his handsome features standing out in a mass of crooked noses. If I could have given anything to erase the memory of his face when he saw Patricia's hold on me, I would have. He breathed in sharply and even from a distance I could see his eyes light up with fear.

"Jesse, run!" I screamed. Patricia turned to see who I was shouting at and I saw this as my opportunity to break free. I kicked, my foot colliding nicely with Patricia's knee, and she cried out in pain. Her grip loosened significantly and I ploughed my fist into her over-made-up face before sending my knee into my stomach when she doubled over.

A mere second passed before I felt hands on me again and I was being dragged into the crowd.

"Susannah, we have to go," Jesse spoke, hurrying me along. The crowd were too shocked to take action. I assumed that they were afraid of me. Nobody had ever attacked a witch finder before and lived to tell the tale.

At that moment all I wanted to do was collapse into Jesse's arms, for him to hold me and keep me safe from danger. But there was no time for that. We pushed our way through the crowd, moving as fast as was possible and eventually we broke free.

And then...we ran.

**AN - The song the quote is taken from is _'Blue in the Face'_ by Alkaline Trio.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. You know how much I love reviews :). It is close to the climax of the story (well, technically the climax is a few chapters long but there is a climax of the climax, lol) so I really love hearing from people who have stuck with this story for so long. You really don't know how much it means to me to read reviews from people who enjoy this, because I have so much fun writing it. So please continue to review. And thank you to froggyzrkule, Princess Isolde, Alanna99, Breaking.Benjamin, Sharkina, Craziness-n-love, GoooGoooo, True Roswellian, and xoxdefygravityxox for reviewing last chapter (sends love).**

**On the update front, updates may be delayed because of an overload of work and exam revision then, of course, the exams themselves.**

**Please review.**


	21. A Journey's End

**Cursed **

Despite the danger that we were both in, I was glad to be with Jesse again. I assumed from his timing that I had been in that deserted house with Paul for almost half an hour. I was amazed that it had been a relatively short length of time...it had felt like much longer.

Jesse's hand held my arm firmly as we ran, putting more distance between ourselves and Patricia. I did not doubt that Quinn would not be far from her side.

My heart pounded violently in my chest, my legs moving faster than they were capable of. I did not know where we were headed, just as I did not know what we would do now. I could not bear to think of it, not when so much was at stake. I was unsure of whether or not we were being followed but I could not stop running even though my legs were burning, muscle working harder than it was designed to.

Jesse noticed me stumble and pulled me aside into an alleyway between two empty brick buildings. They were Andy's work, I could tell from the superior design. The alleyway was dark and damp from many days' worth of rainwater and so narrow that we were forced to walk in single file. As soon as it widened enough for me to move I fell to my knees, part out of exhaustion and part out of crippling fear.

"_Querida_?" Jesse asked, collapsing onto his knees beside me in worry. "Susannah, breathe. It's alright, you are safe now."

The cool night air soothed my crippled lungs and I found myself reaching for his shirt collar.

"Oh God," I muttered. "Oh God, it has all gone wrong."

I gripped the back of his shirt for dear life, my knuckles white from such a strong hold. Jesse's hands were considerably gentler on my back, holding me underneath my cloak as I held him.

"Don't say that. It is not over yet," he assured me, so confident that he failed to see what we were truly up against.

"Yes, it is," I insisted. "They know, they all know. Patricia, the villagers, Paul..."

"Paul? You saw-?"

I wrapped my arms tighter around his torso in an effort to make him forget what I had let slip. But Jesse knew me better than anyone and he pulled back to look me in the eye.

"Susannah, what did he do? If he hurt you, _mi Dios_ I will make it so that he regrets the day he met you," he promised, his voice shaking with unexpressed anger.

The mere mention of Paul's name had caused fire to burn in Jesse's usually loving and peaceful eyes. It may have seemed otherwise but I saw this as a sign of true love. Jesse hated Paul for what he had put me through, he felt what I had felt and his want for revenge was even more powerful than mine. A strangled sob escaped my lips and Jesse mistook this for fear and pulled me into him again.

I did not attempt to correct him right away. How could I when he was so close to me? I inhaled his hypnotic scent, which did not cause my insides to churn as every other smell that night had. It calmed me down significantly, assuring me that I was home. I could feel his chest press against my own as it rose and fell with every breath that he took.

"He threatened you," I spoke at last. "I was so scared. He kissed me but I bit his lip and he attacked me. He was acting so strangely. I just... Oh, Jesse, I don't care anymore. I don't care if I can not marry you as long as I can spend the rest of my life with you. I should have listened to you, I should have listened..."

"_Dios, querida_, this is not your fault. You love me. If you love me even half as much as I love you then I know how much you would be willing to risk to be with me. I also know that you will love me forever, vows or no vows. Marriage is important to me, but not as important as you. This is not your fault. Everything that happened tonight happened by chance."

I moved my lips across the soft skin of his neck, teasing him until I reached his bottom lip and then I kissed him passionately yet tenderly. He sighed softly, a sound which always caused me to melt inside. I knew how crazy he drove me, from the way he touched my hair to the way he held me as we made love but I could not feel what _he_ felt. I loved making him sigh and I adored hearing him groan in protest when I became too much for him to handle.

"But what will we do once we return to Spain?" I enquired, my lips still brushing his. "Your parents would not approve."

"I will buy us a house," he answered. "We could start our own ranch. We could start a family. _Querida_, we could have _children_. It could be just us. No witch finders, no more running."

I laughed quietly to myself. The life that he was promising me was the life that I had convinced myself would never exist unless I returned to Fairwater. My whole plan was unravelling before me but the hope did not disappear; we were still able to build a future together. If only I had seen how pointless my plan was before we left. I was so wrapped up in the thought of marrying Jesse that I failed to weigh up the consequences.

"I am so stupid," I whispered, "so reckless."

Jesse's embrace tightened again and I fell selfishly into it, completely unaware of the fact that we were still out in the open and very much in danger. I just wanted to feel like I wasn't a failure, that I hadn't put us both in danger in the pursuit of happiness that I already had. I had acted like a spoiled teenager, wanting more than they were given, instead of the mature almost-eighteen-year-old that I had become.

"For what it is worth, Henry gave us permission to sleep in his stable tonight," he whispered. "If it were not for Paul your plan would have worked."

Once again I cursed Paul for his actions. He always had a way of interfering with my plans, even if this interference was purely coincidental or even accidental.

"We really should go," I muttered, reluctantly pulling away from him. "They will be searching for us and the quicker we get out of here the safer we will be."

He nodded in agreement before helping me to my feet. The dark alley remained as silent and empty as it was when we had sought shelter in it. Strips of moonlight shone down from the heavens and illuminated the damp walls, accentuating the moss that clung between the bricks. It landed on Jesse, too, and his eyes seemed to glow, his tanned skin appearing almost white before me. It brought out the usually unnoticeable highlights in his raven hair, turning them a beautiful azure.

His hand slipped in mine and I closed my fingers around his, marvelling at how they seemed so small and fragile against his deliciously masculine hand.

He smiled at me in reassurance and we began to move towards a second entrance to the alley. How far were we from the valley? About a mile? I felt adrenaline surge through me once more, my body preparing itself for our hasty retreat. We both shrugged our cloaks off before we stepped out into the open, realising that they would only impede our progress. The sudden shill did not bother me, not when I was this close to Jesse. The breeze tugged at the billowy sleeves of his shirt and occasionally pulled the material taught against his muscles. I gripped his hand tighter, suddenly filled with the thought that these muscles would protect me, that they would fight off anyone who tried to harm me. It filled me with confidence and I was able to move my legs, following Jesse at a slow jog as he moved towards the shade of a nearby building. The canopy of the woodland was just visible over the buildings and I had to fight the urge to make a dash for it.

I felt Jesse's hands grip my waist tightly and hold me to him as a lone farmer strolled across the opening behind us, whistling to himself, his dog hot on his heels. I watched with bated breath as the dog suddenly stopped and looked directly into the shadows where we stood. It licked its chops, sniffed the ground then carried on as if it had never seen us. My chest shuddered when I exhaled, fear wracking my tired body.

I did not have time to recover because I suddenly felt Jesse tug on my waist and pull me past the next row of buildings, towards the opening before the trees.

"We will have to run," he whispered. "We must move quickly; I can hear voices. They must have assumed that we would flee to the forest."

I gripped his hand tightly, squeezing it as confirmation that I was ready to run and he nodded. We moved slowly at first, looking both ways to make sure that nobody could see us. When it became apparent that the voices were still a way away we picked up the pace, jogging slowly before building up speed. We had barely reached the first tree when a voice rang out through the relative silence.

"You there!"

I did not bother to turn around. Instead, I darted between the trees, the voice shouting commands behind us.

"Run," I urged Jesse, though it was obvious that this thought had already occurred to him. Twigs and other pieces of the undergrowth snapped beneath our feet, the sound barely audible above my painful breaths. The air was cold and stung my oxygen-starved lungs while my body warmed itself considerably to block out the chill. The wind whipped past us, bringing stinging tears to my eyes, but I did not let up for one minute. I ran, faster than my legs would take me, gripping Jesse's hand for all I was worth. I was holding him back, I knew it. His legs were longer than mine, he could cover a greater distance in a shorter amount of time.

As suddenly as we had started sprinting, Jesse stopped and pulled me behind a thick deciduous tree, covering my mouth with one of his hands. I was struggling to find my breath and was forced to breathe through my nose because of the way his hand was pressed against me. I clawed at his fingers, trying to break free when I heard footsteps. They were slow and their owner was obviously stalking something...or some_one_.

"Are you sure they are around here?" A voice asked. It was male, deep and thundering and its owner sounded as though they were in their thirties at least.

"Did you not hear the shouts from the village?" Another voice asked. it was just as deep as the first but sounded slightly older...and slightly drunk. "'Course they're 'round here. They're jus' kids. Kids don't have the sense to be inconspicuous...could you not hear the twigs breaking?"

"It's always the kids, isn't it?" the first voice asked, amused for some reason. "Why are the kids always the ones who're accused?"

"It's 'cause the covens try to get 'em young," the second voice laughed. I rolled my eyes at his assumption. "They got all that lust burning through 'em, haven't they? For power, sex, you name it. You hear that this one was shacked up with the blacksmith's assistant? He killed a couple o' finders like us to protect her. It's no surprise; this one's supposed to be attractive...real attractive."

Though I was flattered by this compliment the laugh that accompanied it sent chills through me. Jesse's grip on my body became more possessive and his hand slid down from my mouth.

"It's not often you get that," voice one admitted. "It's usually the old, warty ones. What about the boy? What is to be done with him?"

"Well, he's been accused too," voice two pointed out. "It takes a witch to help a witch. But have you seen that Ackerman girl? No wonder he fell. Legs like you wouldn't believe."

It all happened in an instant. I felt Jesse move suddenly, accidentally knocking me to the ground, then I heard one of the witch finders cry out. I did not have to think about my next move. I leapt to my feet and moved around the tree, stopping momentarily when I saw Jesse's fist plough into the face of the older witch finder. The younger man pulled something from his cloak and in a flash of silver and moonlight I saw him thrust it down towards Jesse. My reaction was instinctive. My foot shot out, kicking the knife from his outstretched hand. I found to my advantage that he was caught off guard and I was able to deliver a swift punch to his head before he had time to react. He lashed out blindly, catching me gently on my shoulder and I sent another leg up, right where I knew it would cause him a great deal of pain. He cried out in agony as I heard bones break behind me.

Hands grabbed me roughly and I was pulled away, the two witch finders, one rolling on the floor the other clutching his side, fading into the distance.

My foot burned slightly from the pain that lingered from my well-placed kicks but I ignored it and continued on, stumbling into the darkness.

I did not notice the light as voices erupted around us, drowning out the pounding of our feet. I could hear urgent whispers, hushed voices, and muttered commands projecting out of the trees. They disorientated me, causing me to stumble as the world spun violently around me. Jesse realised that I was no longer running and gripped my arms, shaking me softly.

"_Querida_, breathe," he pleaded, his unease showing in his tone. "Please, we are almost there. Please, stay with me."

I groaned in protest, the world still spinning, the voices growing louder with every second that we stood there.

"_Querida_, I will carry you if I have to...we have to keep moving."

I shook my head, denying his offer of help and moved forward, Jesse remaining behind me as I jogged towards the entrance to the valley.

I could see the cleverly concealed entrance in the distance, obscured by shadows. The leaves that covered it were glowing in the moonlight, acting as a sort of beacon. I focused on the light and moved on, my muscles burning from working too hard. I ran, despite the pain and tried to block out the shouts that followed us through the trees.

I was so close I could almost taste the freedom when I heard a surprised cry behind me. I heard the thud as someone was thrown into a tree and another echoing through the night when they hit the ground. I was stupid to turn around but I was thrown off-guard, startled for a moment.

My lungs burned viciously as my scream sliced through the tension with unnerving accuracy. I did not recognise the man that held Jesse, but I could tell from the blackness of his clothes that he was another witch finder, possibly one of the villagers who had been recruited by Quinn. Jesse was struggling, moving his body from side to side as he tried to flip the man over but the knee that pressed into his back prevented him from doing so.

"Run!" Jesse screamed, twisting painfully so that he could see me. "Get out of here!"

The man who held him jerked suddenly and his eyes fell on me, a scowl creeping across his scarred face.

I didn't move, not an inch. I don't think I would have been able to. The voices grew louder and I whipped around again, desperate to know where they were coming from. I couldn't focus, they were too loud...

"Please," Jesse begged, his voice so hoarse that it was almost a sob. Then, in a brief moment our eyes met...

I have been faced with many difficult decisions in my life and most of the time I have made the wrong choice. My impulsive decisions have put me in grave danger and my well-thought-out moves have usually backfired horribly. I always chose what I thought was right...what seemed heroic. I always chose the easiest way out and here...I had to save Jesse. It was my fault we were here, my fault we were being chased. That was the problem with my choices; they never directly affected me. I always ended up hurting those around me. I suppose that was the reason I was willing to risk everything to put my mistakes right. But now...what was I to do?

I could see in Jesse's eyes that he worried more about them catching me than what awaited him. And suddenly the choice was easy to make. If I ran I could save him, I could do _something_. If I stayed, if I fought, I would be captured with him and there would be nothing that I could do to help him.

It was the hardest decision I could ever have to make but I made it without wondering if the alternative was possible. This time I could not afford to take the risk. I loved Jesse and I would do whatever I could to help him but this time we were on our own.

I tore my eyes away from his and ran. I ran as fast as I could, propelling myself forward with strength I did not think I had. My eyes burned with unshed tears but I did not allow them to blind me. I could cry later but at that moment I needed to stay strong.

Jesse was struggling behind me, trying so desperately to fight off his captor. It was a fight I knew he would lose but I did not let this put me off. I screamed at whoever would be waiting, shouting for help but my cry was cut short when something hard slammed into me.

The world spun slowly and I suddenly felt the rough texture of tree bark against my cheek. It pulled at my skin, grazing me painfully and the more I tried to move the further my face was pressed into it.

Hands gripped my wrists so tightly that I could almost feel the skin bruise. I struggled, shaking my body in an attempt to shake off whoever was holding me but my attempts were almost as futile as Jesse's.

The voices suddenly became clear, shouts and cries mingling with my screams. Something rough was pulled around my wrists, tying them together painfully, and suddenly I was pulled back from the tree. Every time I moved, every time I tried to fight back a hand pulled on my bindings and my wrists would twist painfully.

I was helpless. I could do nothing but cry desperately and watch as the concealed entrance receded, my only source of safety disappearing from view.

My body became unusually flaccid, as though it were giving up while my mind was still searching for a slight glimmer of hope.

But there was nothing. Nothing at all...

* * *

My eyes were closed firmly as I was dragged carelessly through the front door of what once was a miller's cottage. The stench of death was evident before we even arrived; it invaded every sense, filling the soul of every innocent with fear. The pool was free of bodies but the rusting chains hung menacingly over the side of the small bridge; an omen of death to anyone who was unlucky enough to be led in the direction of the cottage. 

The cottage was clean for what it was; a torture house and prison. I couldn't breathe for the musky scent of damp firewood and the fear that these scents evoked. I knew that this was it, the end. My heart did not even leap the way it always did when I saw Jesse, not when I saw him stood before Errol Quinn, bound as I was and bleeding from a small wound in his head.

His expression grew grim when he saw me and I could see the small piece of him that remained strong flicker and die as I was forced to stand beside him and my wrists were released. I immediately began to rub the skin which had become bruised and burned by the rope, not caring that this only caused the raw wounds to sting even more.

"So," Quinn spoke, smiling to himself in an almost psychotic way. "I realise that my assumption was wrong. You aren't as intelligent as I had previously thought, Susannah. Otherwise you would not have returned here. I must say that this is somewhat of a disappointment. You are my finest catch yet you make it so easy for me."

His pause suggested that he expected a reply but neither Jesse nor myself granted him one. Our eyes remained fixed on the floor, our minds numb from shock.

When Quinn realised that neither of us intended to voice our feelings he sighed in disappointment and continued to speak.

"Did you honestly think that you could escape me? Did you think that a witch can carry on with her evil ways and not expect punishment? What kind of man would I be if I allowed you to wander freely, polluting all that is good with your wretched ways?"

"I am not a witch," I whispered in a tone that did not even convince myself. "Jesse is innocent. Why do you condemn us for actions that are not our own?"

Silence descended, silence that was so thick it seemed to linger in the background when Quinn spoke again.

"Susannah Simon and Hector de Silva, you are both suspected of committing the crime of witchcraft and will hereby stand trial under my jurisdiction. Should you be found guilty you will face execution." He smiled once more, watching me as though I were the greatest gift he had been given. "Patricia, Kirk, take them to the cell."

Hands grabbed at me again and I wash pushed forward, guided towards a door that creaked open before me. I could see the hallway beyond, slivers of moonlight breaking through small windows and scattering their monochromatic light across the stone.

My feet dragged themselves reluctantly across the stone floor, scuffing terribly and causing me to stumble. Patricia did not even attempt to help me walk, she simply pushed me further forwards and throwing me forward once the hallway ended. I fell onto the hard floor of the 'cell' which turned out to be nothing more than a small room with bars inserted crudely yet effectively into the small window. A small toilet (wooden with a stone base) stretched out in the corner while a large, worn blanket lay in a crumpled heap by the opposite wall. The floor was stone, just like the rest of the large cottage, hard and cold with a fine layer of straw covering it.

The door slammed shut behind us, locks turning and stone scraping soon after. I could barely find the strength to push myself into a sitting position, but I was able to do it once my arms stopped shaking. My eyes burned with tears that fear seemed to have frozen inside of me, dry gasps escaping from my throat occasionally.

I was vaguely aware of Jesse's presence and when he slumped to the floor I found myself in his arms, holding him tightly as though he were my last hope.

He held me back, his loving hands chasing life back into me. He whispered Spanish words to nobody in particular, his voice weak and helpless. It caused chills to run through me, knowing that someone who had always been so strong was falling apart in front of me. That was when the reality sunk in. I was dead, we both were. We were captives in a place nobody ever left without an execution date.

The words that I never would have seen myself thinking rushed through my mind as my hands gripped the front of Jesse's shirt so tightly that my knuckles were whiter than the soft fabric.

Paul was right. I risked an awful lot coming back here and I lost everything that I had been fighting to preserve.

Jesse's fingers ceased their movements and rested gently on my arm. He was barely moving, his breaths short and shallow.

"We aren't going back to Spain, are we?" I asked. The voice that passed my lips was so child-like and so terrified that I did not believe it to be my own. I was so numb that I wasn't sure what I truly felt. My eyes were so dry that I found it hard to believe that we were in such a terrible situation, but it was true.

But what frightened me most was not the empty silence or the thought of what awaited us. Because although he turned to embrace me with both arms and kiss me tenderly on the forehead he did not answer my question. He did not assure me that everything would be alright and that we would get through this, as he always did. And this terrified me because although he liked to protect me with both his actions and his words...Jesse didn't lie. Not to me and not about our predicaments.

If Jesse, who always saw hope in the direst of circumstances, could not hold the one he loved and assure her that she would be fine then the outcome could not be good.

Jesse had given up hope. And that thought terrified me.

**AN - I'm not really happy with this chapter but I wanted to get it out of the way. Because the final arc of the story begins right here :). The last couple of chapters have felt kind of bleh to me but the next few are ideas I have had in my head for a while so they should be better.**

**Now seriously, I say this a lot but I may not be updating very frequently for a while. But who knows, if I get a lot of nice reviews I might feel compelled to update quicker. It has happened before :).**

**And a huge thank you to everyone reviewed last chapter. I appreciate every review I get.**

**Please review.**


	22. The Trial of Hector de Silva

**Cursed **

"_When the least they could do to you was everything, then the most they could do to you suddenly held no terror." - **Terry Pratchett**_

I did not sleep that night, nor do I think I was capable of doing so. Jesse refused to relinquish his hold on me but I did not mind; when I lay next to him, resting my head on his chest it felt as though we were back on his ranch, not curled up on the floor of the last room we would ever see.

I could not stop shaking, though I did not cry. Tears were out of the question, crying yet another ability I had lost.

Jesse's eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling gently as he breathed. I did not know if he was sleeping or simply pretending to sleep so that I could not see how helpless he felt. But I knew it; he had barely spoken a word since our capture.

"I am sorry," I whispered. "I am sorry that I brought us back here. I am sorry for everything."

I ran my hand down his torso until it reached his waist, my eyes drawn underneath his shirt where it had pulled open to his navel. I trailed my fingers across to the opening and pulled it back curiously. His skin was as dark there as it was on the rest of his body, as dry as it could be considering how hard and fast we had been running. I could not help but wonder if his skin would still be as perfect and flawless once Quinn was through with him. I knew what Quinn was capable of and it did not bode well for either of us.

I could not help but to press my face against his chest and sigh as the heat seared my grazed skin. His body felt like a furnace, his skin so warm it was almost painful. It was comforting, if nothing else. I breathed against his skin, my breath as warm as his body heat. He shuddered slightly and moved stiffly beneath me, waking from his light sleep.

"_Dios_," he muttered. I could feel his arms tighten around me as he sat upright and pulled me tight against him. I held him back, squeezing his body lightly to show him that I was alright, that I was not still in shock.

"_Querida_, are you-?" he started, and then paused when he realised how ridiculous his question would have sounded. "This isn't the end."

Laughter tried to escape me but it became caught in my throat, forming an invisible lump in my throat that just wouldn't budge no matter how hard I swallowed.

"It is a closed cell," I whispered, my voice deceptively strong. "The toilet is nothing more than a wooden bench above a cement hole leading away from the cottage that is not big enough to crawl through. The bars in the window are cemented deep into the brick and the door is reinforced so escape is impossible."

He sighed deeply and kissed my forehead. I could feel his fingers brush against my skin as they moved up my arm, coming to rest beneath my chin, which he raised so that our eyes met.

"Nothing will happen to you," he promised, cupping my cheek with the hand that had previously held my chin. "I won't let them hurt you."

Why did he promise? He knew as well as I did that this was the end, that there was nothing to look forward to from now on, no hope to cling to. I tried not to think about it but it was always there, always reminding me that we would both suffer for my carelessness.

I moved towards Jesse, our lips meeting for a desperate kiss. He was the only comfort I had left, even though just being with him reminded me that I had not only put myself in danger, I had also condemned him. I was surprised that he had not rejected me, shunned me in the hope that they would spare his life if all the blame was placed on me. He did not have to remain here but he did and he held me in the hope of providing me with the safety blanket I so desperately needed. I felt movement as his hand traced my curves, gliding from my waist to my shoulders then back down to my waist before moving up again and gently cupping my breast. I could feel his touch even through the thin material of my dress and my skin reacted the way it always did; burning beneath his fingertips. I moaned quietly as his lips left mine in search of the more sensitive skin of my neck. I twisted into a more comfortable position so that my back pressed against his chest and my head tilted to the side involuntarily, allowing him to better access my neck. Emotions overwhelmed me and I soon forgot that we were facing certain death. I did not care anymore; as long as he continued to kiss me I would be fine. His ragged breaths were barely audible in my ear and my body was unwilling to register the coldness of the floor; not when his hands were awakening other areas of my body just as expertly as his lips.

"Stop," I begged him, my strangled whisper telling him that this was actually the last thing I wanted him to do. "Stop, you're making me forget..."

"Forget?" he repeated, his hands ceasing their movements though his lips continued to caress my skin in an almost painful manner. I paused to catch my breath and almost cried out when his lips found my hyper-sensitive earlobe.

"No," I gasped, wrenching myself away from him. "I can't forget, it is my fault that we are here. I won't let myself forget..."

He did not move to hold me again when I pressed myself against one of the hard stone walls. He remained seated on the floor, looking almost as helpless as I felt. My heart shattered again when I saw this and I was forced to tear my eyes away from him. I didn't deserve to be kissed by him, not after I have put him through so much. I should have listened to my head instead of my heart; it was obvious from the start that we were never supposed to be. I was selfish when it came to his love, wanting more than I was allowed to have. I should never have kissed him, I should never have allowed our relationship to progress this far. I loved him more than I was capable of loving anything else and my stupid, selfish heart had killed us both.

My body shook uncontrollably, pain flaring in my invisible wounds. It was worse than the pain I had felt when Jesse was arrested, worse than the pain I had felt when his father had voiced his disappointment in his son. It was worse even than the pain I had felt when I saw how much I had hurt my mother. The fear had numbed my muscles yet this pain was still able to tear them apart. If I confessed, maybe this would all be over. I would die and not have to feel this way any longer. But what about Jesse? Would he not feel this way if he was forced to watch me die? I could not transfer this pain to him no matter how badly I wanted it to end; I had already put him through too much.

"He will suffer either way," Marianne spoke, snapping me from my emotional flagellation. I had not felt her materialise, nor had I been aware of her presence until she spoke. "I know that look. I wore it myself when I was in your position. You welcome death because you know it will mean freedom for him. But it isn't that simple."

I heard Jesse shift and he looked at Marianne in astonishment before his head whipped around to face me.

"No!" He commanded. Within a matter of seconds he was infront of me and held my tear-stained face in his hands. "_Querida_, you won't confess for me. I won't allow it. No one will die because of us. We will get through this together, strong until the end. If you confess I will still go to trial. It will do no good.""

I looked into his eyes with pity. He was acting so strong but he did not comprehend the horrors that lay before us. Strong did not come into the equation. Strength meant more pain, more suffering. Weakness was the only way to survive this. If we were strong we would die before the trial is over.

"Quinn, he...if he finds a weakness he will exploit it," Marianne told us. "I did not go to trial because I 'confessed' as soon as he threatened my family. My love for James was my downfall; don't let your love be yours."

* * *

My tears took me to the world of sleep and when I woke a beam of sunlight shone through the barred window. Jesse was no longer beneath me, but sat next to what appeared to be two bowls of water.

"They are feeding us," he smiled, holding out what seemed to be a piece of dried bread. "That has to be a good sign."

I frowned, unsure about this seemingly compassionate gesture. It was strange for a witch finder as cruel as Errol Quinn to provide his captives with food and water. Regardless of what I thought, I took the bread and bit into it, coughing violently when I swallowed too fast. It was hard, on the verge of becoming stale, but it was still edible. The water was a welcome refreshment to wash down the dry crumbs. I drank greedily from the small bowl, stopping only when Jesse laughed.

"I would not be so hasty," he told me, tucking a wet strand of hair back behind my ears. "We do not know if they will feed us again anytime soon."

I frowned when I realised that this was true and pushed the half-empty bowl to the side. Jesse seemed more cheerful than he had the previous night and I couldn't help but wonder if it was because of the food. Coupled with the sun that streamed into the room it was almost enough to make me forget where I was.

"What time is it?" I asked, my mouth still dry from the bread. I did not know what time we had been arrested but it helped me to feel less lost if I knew the time.

"From the position of the sun, I assume that it is mid morning," he replied. I sank into him carelessly, shivering slightly from the chill of the stone.

"Was it worth it?" I blurted out. I regretted it almost instantly when Jesse's hand suddenly stopped stroking my hair.

"Worth what?"

"This," I continued, cursing my runaway tongue. "Was this worth us? Was our short time together worth this? Was it worth me?"

He sighed impatiently and moved his hand to my arm.

"Susannah, you are the only good thing to happen in my life," he answered. "You are the only part of my life I would never turn my back on. You are everything to me and I would die for you. For us to spend so long together and to be so happy in that time means more to me than you will ever know. You are incredible, amazing in every way possible. To hold you like this makes me feel so...alive. If something as good as our love is not worth dying for then nothing is. It terrifies me but I would not trade us for anything. I...I am scared but it was worth it. It was all worth this. I have no regrets, not where you are involved."

I sobbed silently and buried my face into his tanned neck, revelling in his love.

He did not regret us, he did not think that all we have been through was for nothing. I was simply glad that I could spend my last weeks with such an amazing man, being loved in every way possible by him.

I was too lost in this newfound happiness that I did not hear the scrape of the door. I did not hear the footsteps that followed nor the faint jangle of keys. I only acknowledged that we were not alone when Jesse tensed and pulled me tightly against him. My reaction upon seeing Patricia and Kirk was similar to Jesse's; I wrapped my arms around his torso as though it would somehow prevent them from taking him.

"Susannah," Patricia said, her voice dripping with malice. It shocked me to hear someone that was not my boyfriend refer to me as anything but 'Lady Simon'. "Will you come without a fight?"

My whole body tensed, leaning rigidly against Jesse. So soon?

I couldn't move, not even to nod in acknowledgement. Jesse gripped me tighter, his fingernails digging painfully into my skin. His possessive grip startled me.

"No!" he told them, his voice as steady as I had ever heard it. "I won't let you take her."

My heart leapt with adoration and I somehow found the courage to glare at the two witch finders above Jesse's bicep. Patricia's eyes were fixed on me while Kirk raised his hands in defeat and stepped into the room, ready to wrestle me from Jesse's grip if it got that far.

"Mr. de Silva, don't make things difficult," Patricia sang, fighting back a venomous smile. "Errol simply wishes to speak to Miss Simon. Do you think this is inappropriate?"

To my great surprise, Jesse told her to tell Quinn where to stick his questions and I had to fight back a laugh. It was not a pleasant feeling, laughing when you are so terrified. Terror has a will of its own and eventually you have to turn your back on it and focus on something else, but laughing was not the best way to do this.

"The only way you are taking her from this room is when you pry her from my dead arms," Jesse snarled, his grip relaxing as he rose to his feet to shield me from Quinn's assistants.

To my surprise, neither Patricia nor Kirk attempted to make good on Jesse's offer. Instead, Kirk moved like lightning and seized one of his wrists.

"Very well," he smiled and jerked Jesse towards the door.

In a flash my feelings became reversed. I did not think it possible to be more afraid than I was but something tugged painfully in my chest when Jesse was pulled out of my reach. The pain spread, engulfing my whole body in flames that burned away every hope and sliver of optimism that was left within me.

"No!" I screamed when the door slammed shut behind them. I pounded violently against it, my hands exploding with pain. "Jesse! I will go! I will go, just bring him back!" Splashes of crimson appeared on the door, seeping into the warped wood. Blood trickled down onto my wrists and I cried out one last time, watching through the bars as Jesse was pushed violently through another door which then closed behind him.

My lifeless body sunk to the floor, the fire still burning through my body, threatening to consume me. I tried everything; I tried crying, I tried screaming, I tried pounding the floor with my bloody fists in despair but the pain remained. I did not respond when gentle hands pulled me into a sitting position and a deep voice hushed me quietly. My father's voice spoke soothing words but I did not register them. Why was he here? Did he want to see me like this?

"You told me that everything would turn out fine," I sobbed, trying to fight against his embrace. "You told me that we would be able to just wait this one out..."

He remained silent and held me, doing his best to try and keep me quiet.

"Don't let Quinn hear you," he advised. "Don't let him know how much this is hurting you."

"Hurting me?" I sobbed, disbelieved. "Father...it is _killing_ me."

I finally found the strength to pull away from him and rose to my feet, my legs shaking unsteadily. My whole body was in agony, despair taking me prisoner. I would be a wreck before they began to question me.

I had never felt so helpless, so out of control of my own body. I was forced to reach out for the wall to support my trembling legs.

"Maybe...maybe they will only talk," I wondered aloud, the thought nothing more than wishful thinking. "Maybe they will only talk today."

Clinging on to this though I gripped onto a protruding beam in the door and lifted myself up so that I could almost look through the bars.

I was barely upright for a second when a sound sliced through the dull silence. It was a cry, a heart-breaking cry. The voice was heavy with pain and fear, loud enough to be heard even outside the cottage. My legs gave way and I crashed to the ground, my whole body flashing with physical pain when it slammed into the straw-covered floor. That voice...it was Jesse's.

Another masculine scream rang out and what was left of my heart exploded, leaving only ice cold particles that stung like bitter winter frost. My face contorted into an expression of pain but no matter how hard I tried to cry out, no sound escaped me.

"Oh God, Suzie," My father exclaimed. I felt his hands on my shoulder but I shrugged them off, my body acting of its own accord. "Suze, stay strong, don't-"

"Don't what?" I screamed, the fear, pain and anger all exploding in one giant supernova of emotion. "Can't you hear that?" Despite my anger, my voice still broke. "This is my entire fault. I tried to save him from execution, I tried to save him from his father's disapproval and now...he is being tortured because of my actions."

I opened my mouth to continue but my voice refused to function. All that came out was a strangled sob and I found myself crying into my hands again.

"Just go away," I sobbed hoarsely. "Just go away."

The hair on my arms raised as another scream sliced through my soul. I could feel the lump that had formed in my throat rise and I barely had time to bolt for the toilet before the bread I had eaten not too long ago left my body in an unpleasant way.

That was the moment my last shred of hope died.

* * *

I don't know how long he was gone, only that my body sprang to life when I heard the scraping of the key in the door. Patricia stepped through first, brandishing a knife in case I decided to attack her. If I had the strength I would have done so much more than attack her. I would have snapped her neck with my bare hands if I was capable of moving at all.

I crawled forward, watching with horror as Kirk threw what appeared to be a mass of white and red rags onto the floor of the room. They did not waste anymore time and left as quickly as they had arrived.

That was when I realised...it was not rags, it was Jesse.

With strength I didn't think I had at that moment I pulled myself over to him...and froze.

"Jesse?" I sobbed, reaching out to touch his blood-stained cheek. He did not reply but he flinched as I touched him, hissing sharply in pain.

"Oh God, what did they do?" I wept. His face was covered with blood that has seeped from wounds in his hairline, eyebrow and lip, mingling with sweat to make the damage appear more extensive than it actually was. I ran my fingers lightly down his neck, pulling open his shirt to inspect the wounds that were responsible for staining his shirt.

I raised a hand to my mouth when my eyes fell upon his chest. A shallow wound had opened on one shoulder, blood staining that area crimson. It didn't look deep enough to leave a permanent scar but it looked deep enough to cause him a great deal of pain. His back arched in pain as I ran my fingers over his chest, trying to determine where the wounds were. There was a deceptive amount of blood and I found myself retching again.

"This is all wrong," I cried. "This is not how it is supposed to be done."

His wounds were irregular, showing almost no pattern at all. Upon first impression it appeared as though they had been pricking him but pricks were supposed to be small, needle-like wounds, not painful slashes that bled profusely.

My face fell to his and I captured his lips gently. I could taste the copper tang of blood on his skin but it did not bother me. His lips moved weakly against my own which only caused my eyes to burn painfully with tears once more.

"Don't move," I instructed him, reaching for the hem of my dress. I tore away the stitches, shaking my dress so that a small woven bag fell onto the palm of my hand. Opening it hastily I reached for one of the half-full bowls of water and sprinkled a few of the herbs the bag contained into the liquid. I fumbled around through the straw until my hands brushed against a large stone, which I took and used to grind the green leaves.

"This may hurt but it will help to ease the pain overall," I told Jesse. I reached for a torn section of his shirt and pulled until it came away, providing me with a rag big enough to wrap around my hand. Silently, I thanked Madam Zara for this dress, knowing that the herbs she provided us with would also help the wounds to heal.

I dipped the rag into the water and pressed it against the wound in his shoulder, shaking when he tried to suppress a cry. I moved my free hand to his hair and began to stroke it, assuring him that it would be alright. It was strange how I was now the one who had to tend to his wounds when it was always the other way around. He had never shown any sign of pain, no hint of weakness yet I could see even terror in his face as he fought against the pain.

I moved the rag up to his face and began to clean away the blood. I wiped it from his eyes first then his lips before cleaning the rest of his face as best as I could. His eyes fluttered open as soon as they were not caked in liquid and I smiled at him, my action faltering as the fear reminded me that it would _not_ be alright...not this time.

Dipping the rag in the mixture again I returned to his chest, wiping the blood from his neck then moving down over the ridges of his abdomen all the way down to the waistband of his jeans and the small trail of hair that disappeared beneath it. There did not appear to be any wounds beneath his waist so I asked him to try and sit upright so I could remove his shirt. He obliged though his movement was slow and he was obviously still in pain. I covered the clean end of the rag in mixture again and covered the wounds on his arms which seemed to look worse when there was no blood covering them. I pulled him forward so that I was able to reach behind him and cleanse his back. The wounds there did not seem as careless as those on his arms but I still cleaned them, stopping only when there was no trace of blood left on Jesse's skin. By that point my own dress was covered in little red splotches and I found it hard to discern which were results of my own careless bleeding.

I forced him to drink the little remaining mixture and he obeyed, seeming unable to do anything else.

The worn blanket that rested against a small pile of straw caught my attention and I dragged Jesse over to it, spreading the blanket across the straw and laying him back against it.

"Your wounds do not look as though they will scar," I informed him, settling myself down beside him. "But they will take a while to heal. Just...rest."

"They...asked questions about...about us," he gasped, turning his head to face me. "Personal questions that had no relevance. I refused to answer. Then...I am not sure. Something hit me and my arms were pulled tight against my back and there was pain...pain everywhere. No sooner than one wound stopped stinging they inflicted another, and another. I thought they were going to kill me."

I closed my eyes as I was filled with guilt over not leaving with the witch finders. The pain that had previously wracked my body died considerably now that he was back with me. When they had taken him I began to wonder if he would ever return.

"Jesse, I love you," I cried, stroking his cheek with my fingertips. "I want you to know that no matter what. I should have gone with them, I am sorry."

His breathing became irregular (no doubt due to his fresh wounds) as he moved his arms to hold me to him. I leaned my head against an unbroken part of his skin on his chest and breathed deeply.

"_Querida_, I can deal with this pain," he whispered. "I can take whatever they give me as long as I know that you will be safe. This is not your fault, none of this is. Please don't blame yourself."

An unpleasant sniffle escaped me as I raised my head and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"I shouldn't even be touching you, your wounds are still open," I laughed. I was about to follow through with a comment about being the most lousy fiancée in the world but he kissed me and I found that I did not want to speak anymore.

My whole body relaxed from such minimal contact and I found my hands wandering up his abdomen. His kiss was so gentle, so pure. It is strange how the thoughts it evoked were anything but pure. Still, he kissed all of my pain away, holding me as though I were the wounded one. I did not want to be touched this way; I wanted to feel his hands all over my body, I wanted to feel _more_ than just his hands. Even though my head knew that this was now impossible, that I would never feel him in that way again, my rogue hand moved down past his navel, tracing the line of hair and slipping beneath his trousers. He jumped in a way that must have been extremely painful for him and I removed my hand fast, stuttering apologies for all I was worth.

"I am so sorry," I apologised. "I don't know what came over me. Oh God, did I hurt you?"

Jesse laughed heartily, wincing from the pain that flared through his body as a result.

"Oh _querida_, your touch could never hurt me," he smiled. "Your touch can make me feel right even in circumstances such as this. You simply startled me."

I blushed crimson with embarrassment.

"I am sorry, I just...I know we will never be together in that way again and it hurts."

He hushed me and pulled my body close to his again. His skin was burning, providing me with an uncomfortable amount of heat. But I didn't let it bother me, not when I was holding him. I never wanted to let go of him again.

"I know," he whispered, seemingly lost in a daydream. "But when we get out of here, when all this is over, I promise to keep you in my bed until we can't stand the sight of each other."

I giggled childishly and settled against his chest once more, somehow forgetting about the fear I had felt a short while ago.

"I might have to hold you to that," I whispered, his heat lulling me to sleep.

His optimism scared me sometimes. The chances of us ever leaving this place were about as slim as Paul's chances of carrying out a selfless act. But I could see from his reaction to his torture and to our capture that hope was all that got him through. It was futile hope but it was all that kept him going. I only wish that I could have been as strong as him.

I do not know how long I slept before a violent scream pulled me harshly from my dream world. I jumped up, startled as I realised that darkness had fallen. I was even more startled when I realised that I was alone on the straw, Jesse's bloody shirt the only part of him that remained with me.

I did not bother to cry out this time, I just pulled my knees to my chest and trembled, trying so hard to block out the cries. I could not fall asleep again, not when he was gone.

No ghosts appeared, not my father, not even Marianne. For this I was thankful; I did not need their pity or their misplaced heartfelt words. Nothing could kill the pain inside of me.

But the strangest thing happened...as I cried into my knees, my blood-stained hands gripping my shins, I closed my eyes and I prayed. I felt as though I had no right to pray since I held no religion but I found myself begging for help. Not for me, but for Jesse. He was the innocent caught up in this violent game and I did not want him to suffer for me.

The screams turned to shouts and I pressed my hands firmly against my ears. But no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried to block out those awful sounds they were still there, tearing me apart even when I could not hear them. They may have been inflicting pain upon Jesse but the wounds they were inflicting upon me ran much deeper and I wondered if I would be as strong as Jesse by the time I went to trial.

**AN - I didn't quite know how to end that one... I hope it all came out alright; I have never been that good at writing un-romantic scenes. I seem to have problems making them flow. Anyway, thank you to all my reviewers... **

**xeasyXasXpix - Haha, that review wasn't awkward...it made me smile :). Thanks for the review. **

**Bridget - I usually don't do sad endings but you never know...this may be the one I break the mould with. You will just have to wait and find out ;). Thanks for the review :). **

**And thank you to everyone else: Isolde Eris, lizzybizzybee, Alanna99, True Roswellian, princess of england, MarcyPlayground, creating apathy and AngelONight. **

**Please review :). **


	23. Facing the Fire

**Cursed**

_"Where so many hours have been spent in convincing myself that I am right, is there not some reason to fear I may be wrong?" - **Jane Austen**_

I was dimly aware of pain in my right side. Not so much pain, but minor discomfort. My hip bone was pressed against concrete, the skin that formed the thin barrier between the floor and my bone aching dully. Something touched my hair, gently pushing the damp bangs from my eyes. I breathed in through my nose, instantly regretting this when the smell of damp straw invaded my senses.

"_Querida._"

My eyes shot open, my hip bone jarring painfully against the ground when I jumped. The hand that had been stroking my air was suddenly on my cheek, stroking the stained skin there. My eyes met with Jesse's and I sighed with relief, laughing quietly to myself.

"Jesse," I whispered, leaning forward to rest my head on his shoulder. But as I moved I noticed a glimmer of red as his sweat-soaked skin caught the sunlight. I froze and looked down, unsure of whether I really wanted to see what was there.

His shirt was ripped almost to shreds, only just covering his skin. The wounds that had been there the previous night were now joined by several new gashes, though none were bleeding. Blood had dried around the new wounds and it had begun to flake around the ridges of his muscles. I choked back a sob as I raised my eyes to meet his again. I could tell that he was close to breaking but he was trying hard not to show it.

I closed my eyes and allowed my head to fall, inhaling his scent when he embraced me.

I did not know how long we had been locked up. It could have been days, it could have been weeks but I assumed it was the former as Jesse's wounds were not as extensive as they would have been after a week at Quinn's mercy. As I ran my fingers up his spine I could feel the ridges of each vertebrae and where the skin had been broken during his interrogation. The gashes were joined by small circular punctures, barely an inch from each other. This gave me little comfort but at least it proved that they weren't hurting him needlessly anymore. Whether this was good or bad, I did not know. It meant that they were one step closer to executing him but I tried not to dwell on this.

I went about my usual routine, mixing the herbs and cleaning his wounds. I tried not to notice how little of the crushed green plant was left, or of how dangerously close we were to my interrogation. I knew Quinn and he valued psychological torture just as much as he valued physical torture. He knew that witnessing Jesse's wounds and hearing his screams would shake me up, hopefully to the point of confession. But I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. If he wanted to draw a confession from me he would have to do it the old fashioned way.

Jesse slept as I lay awake, noises from outside our cell refusing to let me sleep in peace. The shrill shrieking of birdcall and laughter of the guards outside our door echoed around the cell. I was surprised that Jesse could relax at all. I can't say that I blamed him, though. He needed all the rest that he could get.

The day passed without the guards calling upon us once, a fact which both comforted an unnerved me. Jesse slept most of the time, his head resting gently against my stomach. He would twitch occasionally and murmur something under his breath but as soon as my fingers began instinctively stroking his hair he would calm down and ease back into a seemingly peaceful sleep. I felt like a mother taking care of a wounded child but I did not complain, nor did Jesse expect me to treat him the way I did. He tried to hide his sounds from me but I always saw them and each incision seemed to inflict an unnatural amount of pain on my heart.

Was I really doing the right thing? I did not want Jesse to suffer but I also did not want him to die. Was I really the child, refraining from making a decision to benefit myself? No matter what I chose, someone would suffer. Could I sacrifice my own life and let Jesse live out the rest of his, knowing that he was the reason I was accused in the first place? No, I couldn't. I couldn't do that no more than I could watch him die to save me. If we suffered, we would suffer together. Maybe it was the coward's way out, but it was the only thing that seemed to satisfy me. If we took this one step at a time, we need not worry about the future and whether we would have one. But still, I knew that the tortures would steadily become more painful and more life-threatening. And with every torture that he endured, Jesse's resolve was weakening as he knew that I must go through the same.

I never let him see my tears, nor the tracks that they left on my puffy cheeks. I couldn't show weakness, not to Jesse, not to Quinn, not to anyone. I had never been in such a position before and it terrified me.

Marianne continued to visit us, flickering in and out of view, but she never spoke a word and for that I was grateful. My father did not show up and I assumed that Marianne was keeping him away. I couldn't bear to let him see me like this.

I slept uneasily as darkness descended and Jesse moved to hold me to him. It was difficult to position myself against him so as not to hurt him but his posessiveness left me little choice. He didn't seem to mid the pain so I selfishly indulged in his loving embrace. Our lips barely met but he kissed me softly and I could taste the faint metallic tang of blood. We slept in this position, his breath warm against my lips. I could have sworn that he was smiling but I put it down to my imagination and closed my own eyes.

My sleep did not last for long. I do not know exactly what it was that woke me, only that the hair on my arms stood on end as my eyes snapped open to see Jesse still peacefully asleep next to me. I breathed a small sigh of relief when a tremendous bang resounded round the room, eliciting a painful cry from Jesse as he leapt into a sitting position. I barely had time to move before rough hands gripped me beneath the arms and pulled be to my feet. The stench of ale and sweat met my nostrils and I tried to turn to see who it was who was holding me so fiercely but I already knew who it was, or rather what their profession was. As if this wasn't enough, Jesse cried out as I was pulled backwards from the room, the fear in his voice confirming my suspicions. A large cloaked man kicked Jesse square in the chest and he fell backwards, unable to help me as I cried out, dragged kicking and screaming from our cell.

"Shut yer mouth," the man who had kicked Jesse shouted behind me. Of course, I didn't obey him and instead directed a torrent of abuse towards him. He simply laughed at me and the man who held me pushed me into a room at the end of the corridor, throwing me to the floor so violently that my head smashed against a large wooden table in the centre of the room. Before I had a chance to recover, or even to press a hand to my aching head I was hoisted violently to my feet once more and forced down into wooden chair which was stained with what could only be blood. My arms were pulled uncomfortably behind my back and my wrists were first bound, then the binding was tied to the back of the chair. My feet were pulled flush with the legs of the chair and my ankles were bound to them with another length of rope.

"Let me go!" I screamed, against my better judgement. "Let us both go, you have no idea what you are doing!"

"Oh, but I do, Susannah," a cold, sharp voice told me. Quinn stepped around the table and perched himself on the edge of it, just like a bird would perch itself on a branch. He said nothing as he looked me up and down, taking in my white dress which was already blood-stained and ripped around the bottom.

"And it was such a beautiful dress," he sighed, turning sideways and nodding to a woman by the fire. Patricia smiled sickeningly at her companion and I could hear the faintest ching of metal on metal, though her wraith-like form blocked the fireplace from view.

"Susannah Simon, you know why you are here," he stated, his voice suddenly taking on a professional tone. "You have been accused of the crime of witchcraft, a crime which carries the punishment of death. Since I am a kind and merciful man, I will give you the opportunity to confess to your sins and avoid a trial."

He paused, waiting for me to reply but I could tell by his expression that he was not expecting me to 'confess'. He probably would have tortured me even if I had confessed, just to show that he could. He reminded me of another scumbag I knew. A scumbag who was the reason I was here, tied to this chair rather than in a safe, warm bed.

"The only crime I will confess to is giving you the time of day," I spat with all the venom I could muster.

His smile told me that I had gave him the answer he had expected.

"Then we begin," he said. I could not help but notice an element of happiness in his voice. The fear that it drove into me caused me to struggle with my bonds. All this achieved was burns on my wrists and ankles.

My eyes followed Quinn as Patricia placed a long metal object in his hand. It was not the object that worried me, it was the end, which glowed as red as the morning sun. I could feel the heat as he approached me, stepping behind the chair so that I couldn't see what he was doing.

I closed my eyes in anticipation, reciting my 'rules' in my head. I must not scream, I must not cry, I must not beg. I must not make any noise that would travel back to our cell. But I knew, even before the searing pain in my arm caused me to pull against my bonds even more violently, even before a scream was torn from my throat, that those rules would be broken.

**AN - First, I have to apologise for the ridiculously long wait. I honestly have no excuse. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and to everyone who has stuck with this story. Apologies also for the short chapter. There wasn't much to write this time and next chapter should be longer.**

**Please review :).**


	24. Susannah's Sacrifice

**Cursed**

_This could break my heart or save me  
Nothing's real until you let go completely  
So here I go with all my thoughts I've been saving  
So here I go with all my fears weighing on me  
**Kelly Clarkson - Sober**_

Something crackled in the distance. I was unaware of what this was and the inquisitive part of me longed to find out but my body refused to move. I opened one of my eyes, the other remaining stubbornly closed. Something warm coated my cheek beneath the eye that would not open and beyond that something cold and hard pressed against my face. I pressed the palm of one hand against the cold floor and attempted to push but my arm buckled from the pain of what felt like a thousand daggers piercing my arm. I allowed it to fall lifelessly to the ground and sobbed silently into the stone.

I couldn't remember much of what had happened. All I could remember was pain, voices, and then nothing. I assumed that I had passed out from the pain.

The fire which crackled by my head cast a strange orange light across the floor and bathed me in an uncomfortable warmth. I could vaguely make out a blood-stained poker leaning against the frame of the fireplace and my stomach tightened, waiting for the pain to return. My ears strained to pick up even the faintest of noises. Where were they?

Then I heard it. Footsteps. My body tensed and my eyes closed, preparing to fight back if I was capable of it. The footsteps stopped, pausing, it seemed, in consideration. I was ashamed to feel my hand tremble on the floor. The footsteps continued until I could feel their owner standing directly beside me, pausing once more as they no doubt stared down at my seemingly lifeless form. Then I felt hands beneath my arms, gripping me gently whilst they lifted me. I flinched slightly before noticing the error in my logic. This was not Quinn. Quinn would never hold me so gently, he would never lift me so carefully that I barely felt any pain. I relaxed, grateful for the hands that knew I was in pain. I was delerious from the pain-induced slumber that I had fallen into but I know whose hand they were. No hands ever touched me this way except his. But how did he escape?

The hands slowly moved down my arms, something moist slipping beneath them. That was when I realised. These hands were not marred in any way, I could feel no callouses nor the gentle roughness that I loved about my lover's touch. These hands were flawless, the skin so soft it seemed unnatural. These hands had touched me before, far too many times when they were unwanted. As though this knowledge had cause a surge of adrenaline within me (which it probably had), I jerked my elbow back, ignoring the searing pain as my torn skin was pulled tight. When I heard the shocked grunt behind me I lept forward, towards the cottage door. I am sure it would have been a comical sight had the situation not been so life threatening. No sooner had I leapt to my feet had my legs buckled and my head missed the corner of the table by mere millimetres as I crashed to the floor.

I groaned as my ankles burned, the imprint of the rope that had bound them to the chair etched into my skin.

"What the hell are you doing?" Paul roared, the table groaning in protest as he used it to help him to his feet. "I was trying to help you!"

"Help?" I laughed, my voice sounding gruff and slightly distorted. I rubbed the eye that had previoulsy been unable to open, not wanting to look at Paul.

To my surprise he did not reply with a venomous quip nor did he look as though he wanted to threaten me. Instead he looked at me with...well, I don't quite know. What I saw in Paul's eyes was not only something I had never seen before but also something I never expected to seen in the man I so openly despised. It seemed as though, for once in his life, Paul Slater was actually speechless.

I laughed bitterly and rubbed my arms, not wanting to look at my previously flawless skin. I could feel shallow wounds beneath my fingertips and the blood that was beginning to dry around them. I didn't want Jesse to see me like this, that was for sure.

Paul stepped around the table, pausing yet again when his eyes met mine.

"Suze, I-" he started. "Suze, I never meant for this to happen. You have to believe me when I say that."

"No, you did want this," I told him. "You wanted me to pay for loving someone else and not you. Well you got what you wanted."

He flinched at my words and I cackled.

"What is the matter? Is it not quite how you pictured it? Life never works that way. You always knew that I would die for him. Well now you can watch it happen."

"Suze, you have to believe me when I say that I never intended for it to go this far," he choked. His voice broke slightly and it was obvious that this was unintentional.

"I...I underestimated you," he admitted, lowering himself into a rickety wooden chair. "You are a lot stronger than I gave you credit for, and that was our undoing. It wasn't supposed to end like this."

Paul looked so honeslty distraught that for a moment, I almost bought his pathetic little act. Deep down, I thought that he was genuinely hurting but logically, it made no sense. The Paul Slater I knew was cunning, he was ruthless and above all he was manipulative. I was already on death row, I was certainly going to die so why should I fall for another act? I had nothing to hide, nothing to hide _from_ and no reason to act innocent and pure anymore.

"Please," I spat, turning away from him. "I'm dying, at least have the decency not to lie to me. Assume no longer that I am pathetic and weak and will easily succumb to your charm or fall for one of your evil lies. Respect me at least that much. That is all I ask."

Paul did not reply, nor did he appear to be thinking about it. He simply rose to his feet and shook his head from side to side, as though trying to shake off the responsibility of everything he had done.

"At least one of you is going to die, Suze," he spoke solemnly. "Quinn will kill both of you unless he obtains a confession within the next day. Suze...you have to tell them that Jesse cast a spell on you or something. That way, he will be blamed and you will be virtually immune to further accusations. Please, Suze, you have your whole life ahead of you, a good life."

If I had enough energy to lash out at him, Paul Slater would be writhing in pain for daring to suggest such a thing. Instead, I laughed and shook my head.

"Out of the question."

Paul stepped around the table and grabbed my upper arms painfully. I tried to protest, but his pleading voice interrupted mine.

"Suze, do you honestly think that this is what Jesse would want?" He demanded, shaking me violently. "Do you think he wants to witness Quinn torturing you to death? If you had never met him, none of this would have happened and he knows that. He would die for you Suze, I've seen it in his eyes. Do you want him to suffer? Surely you want him to be free from pain. Only in death can we every truly be free!"

His hands slid down my arms, releasing my arms from his tense grip. My breath caught in my throat as the true meaning of his words hit me. Loathe as I was to admit it, he was right. I had caused nothing but pain to those around me and I had nobody to blame but myself. If I had not fallen into Paul's trap, I would not have been forced to flee the village and had I not been so reckless as to return, Jesse and I would never have been caught.

A solitary tear trickled down my cheek, mingling with the blood that I had shed for my love. I had been so selfish, so blind. I loved Jesse so much that I would do anything for him, anything to ensure that he suffered no longer. I had to do what I could while I was still capable of doing it. It was the hardest decision I ever had to make, but I made it nonetheless and did not regret it in the few moments I took to reconsider what I was about to do.

"I will do it," I sobbed, more to myself than to Paul.

I watched the fear fall from his handsome features as my words reached his ears. It was unnerving to see such happiness flood a person I had previously thought to be incapable of any emotion besides hatred.

"Suze, this is...you are doing the right thing, I swear it," he exclaimed, unable to surpress a smile.

I waited patiently as he called for Quinn, staring at my coal-blackened toes as I wiggled them to reassure myself that I was still alive and at least in control of my own body. For now...

Quinn spoke with an impatient tone as he enquired as to why he was called. I assumed that he thought it was a waste of his time.

"Is this true?" he asked, his cold eyes moving to focus on me. There was a glimmer of hope in his voice but his words were heavy with humour. He doubted my ability to confess to anything other than hating him and his voice betrayed this belief.

I swallowed deeply, the copper tang that rested on my lips causing a wave of nausea to hit me. At least that was what I told myself it was. I shivered despite the sweltering heat that radiated from the fireplace, telling myself that I had no other choice. My fingers trembled and my voice caught in my throat, as though my whole body was against what I was about to say. I would despise myself for the rest of my life for putting Jesse through so much pain, but I could see clearly now that there was no other way and to allow both of us to die at the hands of such a psychotic, deluded man was pure madness. Paul was right; I hated watching Jesse suffer and every moment with me was another moment of pain to last to his unjust punishment. 'It is like putting down cattle,' I assured myself, 'one quick shot and it is all done...three simple words and he will be free forever. Free from pain, free from suffering...free from me' . I hoped that somewhere in his heart, Jesse would find a way to forgive me, to forgive all that I had done and everything I had put him through. And also everything I was about to put him through.

Swallowing my fear, I found my voice and spoke.

"I bewitched Jesse."

Paul's scream followed almost immediately, bringing about a frenzy of sorts. Arms grabbed me and slammed me into the table, no doubt leaving a pretty sizeable bruise on my thighs.

"What are you doing?" he screamed as Quinn looked into my eyes, searching for the slightest evidence to support my claim.

"She is lying!" Paul screamed. "That bastard de Silva bewitched _her_! He is making her say these things so that he will live."

"Is this true?" he demanded, ignoring Paul's pleading shouts.

I nodded feebly, diverting my eyes from Quinn's.

"All I ever wanted was for him to love me," I sobbed. "I did not mean to hurt him so."

Quinn jerked on my arms and pushed me into Patricia's grip.

"Tell the governer to expect a burning tomorrow night," he told Paul, his voice alive with victory and jubilation. "And please summon a carriage for Mr. de Silva."

My eyes met Paul's as I was led back to the damp cell. I almost regretted my actions when I saw the pure terror in his expression, but I reminded myself that hurting him made my sacrifice so much more satisfying.

"Only in death can we ever truly be free," I reminded him.

No words were spoken as I was dragged down the dark corridor, no insults thrown my way. It was soothing in a way, but left me to my thoughts as I watched the heavy wooden door gradually move closer and closer to me.

Even as I was thrown through through the doorway, I could not articulate my thoughts in a way that allowed me to consider how I was to tell Jesse about what I had just done. The enormity of those three words would shatter more than my hope. But what was done was done, and there was no going back.

The door slammed shut behind me, leaving me with my thoughts...and my lover.

"Susannah," he breathed, his rought hands resting gently on my tear-stained cheeks. "_Dios, Querida_. When you did not return, I feared for the worst."

The warmth of his lips did not sooth my aching heart as they softly brushed mine and I did not react to their presence, refusing to kiss them back.

"_Querida_?" he questioned, a worried expression spreading across his weary face.

He knew what I had done before I could find the words to tell him. My eyes betrayed me, they always did. I would have given anything not to have witnessed his broken expression, I would have taken back every word I had said if it meant I never had to witness the light leave his eyes. I could not even begin to understand the emotions that choked me and I was glad for that simple fact because I knew that I would have broken down and sobbed my heart out if I truly understood what I had done. As much as I wanted to utter some words of reassurance, I was barely able to choke out two words.

"I'm sorry."

**AN** **- Well, there you go, another chapter. I can't give a timeframe for the next chapter, but I am determined to finish this. There are only a few chapter left, so hopefully it shouldn't take too long :).**

**I apologise for anything that seemed off. I had to force myself to write it, lol. I hope it came out as it was intended.**

**Please review.**


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